


If one more guy calls me darling (then I swear)

by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bickering, Birthday, Full Shift Werewolves, M/M, Matchmaking, Siren Stiles Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Spells & Enchantments, temporarily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24310411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dearericbittle
Summary: Stiles’ eighteenth birthday brings with it a surprising amount of appeal. Everyone in Beacon Hills suddenly wants to be all over him. Well, Scott is a lot nicer, but still only a bro to him. So clearly that means that Alpha’s are immune, right? So he has to get in touch with his least favorite Alpha. Derek’s the only one who’ll have the info he needs to figure this out.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 42
Kudos: 745





	If one more guy calls me darling (then I swear)

**Author's Note:**

> I had writer's block, and so I started another fic, as one does (thanks to my friend H for encouraging that, even though you don't know TW at all). About 24k later... I had this. 
> 
> Also, a ton of Sterek bingo prompts: Full-shift werewolves, turning, travel, matchmaking

Stiles was pretty sure that there was something happening to him. 

Sure, it had been funny at first, that Erica wrapped an arm around his waist (instead of his shoulders) at school, and that Isaac didn’t dare insult him for some weird reason. Even Lydia had actually noticed his existence when he got to school that morning – so clearly he’d done something right on this day of all days. Because it was kind of a special day. 

Happy Birthday to him. Eighteen years old, finally. A legal adult, finally. Ready to go to college and see more of the world, not just good old Beacon Hills with its non-stop supernatural shenanigans. Ready to grab life by the… something, and then finally figure out this whole being a normal teenager thing. Preparing to go to NYU, and getting ready to build a life outside of the pack – a life where Stiles wasn’t just the weird human hanger-on. 

Though that did mean that he had to be able to graduate, and well… That was starting to look like a rather serious problem with people being weird and leaving him unable to focus. Because sure, having people’s attention had started out really fucking awesome (Lydia, Lydia, and uh, Lydia), but it turned into a nuisance rather quickly (people fighting over who got to sit next to him at lunch, and strangers trying to bad-touch him for some reason), and then took a turn to the weird (Coach remembered his name and was going to let him play first line). 

Truly, that was when he figured out that something supernatural had to be going on. 

“Scott,” Stiles whined to his best friend. “Can you stop growling at everyone who attempts to get close to me? You’re going to get the entire pack in trouble. Also, dude, can you do some Alpha sensing to figure out why the fuck everyone suddenly wants a piece of this?” 

So, Scott was a pretty okay Alpha most of the time, especially when he let Stiles make all of the actual plans. Because honestly, Scott wasn’t too great at those. But when Stiles got to make the plays, they mostly got out without too many life-threatening injuries. And the werewolves healed from those kinds of things ridiculously quickly anyway, so… 

Yes, Stiles was the only human in his pack, and sometimes that sucked. 

“Because you’re awesome, dude,” Scott was not usually that kind of pep talk dude. 

“I know,” Stiles was pretty sure he wasn’t lying about that. “But that’s not something the rest of the world had figured out yesterday. And I know it’s my birthday and people tend to at least say hi and congratulate me if I’m lucky, but I’m pretty sure that Lydia freaking Martin offered me a birthday kiss. Well, that and a bit more than a kiss. That is not normal!” 

Had he been tempted to say yes? Hell yes. But also, it was too fucking weird and Jackson (fucking Jackson!) hadn’t even protested and he’d been right fucking there. Actually, Stiles was pretty sure that Jackson was the one moving in closer to Stiles first. 

And that was just… Not something he wanted to contemplate, ever. 

“You’re very kissable, bro,” Scott was just getting weirder. 

“Thanks?” Stiles was backing up a bit, before Scott too attempted to go beyond bro stuff. 

So far, Scott was super ready to fight on his behalf, and he gave a ton of compliments, but he didn’t actually do anything creepy. Which was really fucking great, because also kind of weird because everyone was affected but Scott? How the fuck did that work? Was Scott an exception because he was an Alpha werewolf, or was it something else? 

If the Alpha thing made Scott an exception to whatever the fuck was going on… There was someone else who was going to be immune, or mostly immune, to whatever sex pollen love bug hybrid had gotten into the Beacon Hills High School ventilation system. Or the water – in the Batman comics there was always something in the water. And well… BATMAN! 

Which meant that Stiles was going to have to talk to  _ him _ . 

“I have to make a call,” Stiles smiled at Scott, trying to pretend there was nothing wrong. “Can you distract people for me or something? I wouldn’t want them to hurt each other.” 

Well, maybe a little. At least some of them. And… not the point. 

He had better think of a plan instead of imagining some of the big guys from the football team just whaling on Jackson’s stupid face. While that image was all kinds of appealing, it was probably bad form to take that kind of advantage of whatever drug all of these people had somehow managed to ingest. Or whatever else it was that made them suddenly notice him in the weirdest of ways – the creepiest of ways, really. 

And well, if Scott was going to be no help, just brainlessly agreeing with whatever he said and playing superhuman bodyguard? Stiles was going to have to find the only person he suspected wouldn’t be affected to this extent. Derek Hale was never going to be a Yes Man. 

So even though it was going to suck, he dug out his phone and called Speed Dial #3. 

(#1 was Dad, #2 was Scott, clearly. The rest of the pack? #4 and onwards, of course.)

“Derek, please be normal,” Stiles started talking as soon as the Alpha picked up. 

“Someone has to be,” Derek muttered, already annoyed it seemed. “What’s wrong?” 

Did Derek always have to act like an asshole? Apparently, though at the moment it was kind of nice to be dealing with someone who was acting normally on the weirdest fucking day of his entire life. And that was really saying something, because he’d seen some really fucking weird things since Scott got bitten by an evil Alpha in middle school and shit started getting crazy. 

It was almost Scott’s 5-year werewolf anniversary. Shit, Stiles had to remember that. Scott got all kinds of sulky when Stiles forgot about shit like that. 

“Can’t a guy just call to say hello on his birthday?” Stiles thought it kind of sucked that Derek saw through him immediately – he was a man of mystery, damn it. 

“Not when it’s you,” Derek was none too amused. “Not when it’s Beacon Hills.” 

Maybe Derek had a point, and Stiles did have ulterior motives, but it would have been nice if Derek had at least pretended that they could act normally in front of each other before getting into the nitty gritty of it all. But that was probably too much to ask from a permanent dipshit like Derek Hale. The worst Alpha. The lonely Alpha, with no pack. 

“You didn’t even acknowledge my birthday,” Stiles was kind of hurt at that. 

“Happy birthday Stiles,” Derek was a sarcastic asshole even over the phone. “Now will you just tell me what’s going on? Part of the whole, not being in your pack thing, means that I’m actually not in your pack. It means you have an Alpha to talk to. One that isn’t me.” 

It wasn’t like they hadn’t grudgingly offered to let Derek into the pack, as long as he let Scott run it. It was better for Beacon Hills if there was one pack, not a pack and a lone Alpha who was too far up his own ass to realize that he’d alienated everyone he’d ever bitten, and everyone he’d ever talked to, basically. Or that it was an honor to be in a True Alpha pack. Just because Derek had gotten his powers by murdering his Uncle in cold blood…

Or well, not in cold blood. Because Peter Hale had been fucking evil. 

“Scott’s affected too,” Stiles sighed, because Derek had to know that he was never going to be Stiles’ first choice. “Slightly, anyway. Not as much as the others, but he’s still affected. And whatever this is, people are being super weird to me. Like, this is way beyond a prank. Coach said my name right, Derek. He called me Stilinski. He’s never done that. Ever. Not in my many years of being a benchwarmer has he said anything but Bilinski.” 

Okay, so having to admit that out loud kind of sucked - especially since this was Derek and he didn’t forget about petty victories like that - but maybe it was actually going to make Derek listen to what he was saying. Though Stiles honestly doubted that. Derek could be annoyingly stubborn about things (like not wanting to be in the pack, for some reason). 

“Birthday gift?” Derek was not taking this seriously. 

“Do you really think he would even remember my birthday?” Stiles had some serious doubts. “For the love of God Derek, Lydia Martin offered to make out with me and her slimy boyfriend had his hand on my ass the whole time. I am traumatized. Scott is fighting people if they dare to get near me. Isaac didn’t make fun of me once. Something is rotten in the state of Stiles!” 

For all Derek’s many visits to the high school when he still had a pack of his own, he clearly did not remember a whole lot of the way things worked here. Surely Coach Finstock had been around when Derek was a student – Derek wasn’t actually that much older than the McCall pack. There was maybe a five-year difference between him and Stiles, though Stiles really didn’t remember exactly. Because it was Derek, so why should he care?

“Isaac didn’t make fun of you?” Derek actually sounded suspicious now. 

“Oh, that is the thing that gets you?” Stiles was not impressed. “I basically get a threesome offer from the love of my life and her slimy boyfriend, and Isaac not being a dick is what finally makes you realize that I’m fucking serious about this? Honestly, Derek!” 

Was it really surprising, though? Derek had never been interested in hearing about the actual goddess that was Lydia Martin, and he’d certainly never wanted to hear Stiles’ theories that Jackson was actually some kind of lizard monster that was going to end up killing them all someday. Because apparently petty teenage grudges did not count as evidence, or whatever – and no, Stiles totally hadn’t memorized his exact words for that one. 

Why would he? That meant he actually paid attention to Derek. No one wanted to do that. 

“I don’t care about the love of your life,” Derek was rolling his eyes almost audibly. 

“But you care about Isaac,” Stiles filled in the blanks, because he did know some things about the most idiotic of Alphas. “It’s okay, I promise not to tell anyone you have feelings.” 

Even though Stiles couldn’t actually see Derek, he was pretty damn sure that Derek was still bringing out the brows of sass in full force. Any conversation they had in person ended with Derek just using his asshole smug face to make his point, and with some serious eye-rolling and brow raising while he left Stiles rambling and spinning his wheels. 

A true asshole – but an asshole with a lot more knowledge about the supernatural than anyone in the McCall pack (Stiles included, sadly). Derek had kept all of the books from his family’s secret vault (ugh, so pretentious), only sharing information with the McCall pack when he had absolutely no other option, that secretive shit. Okay, and maybe he shared sometimes when actual lives were on the line, but there was usually some kind of favor involved. 

They probably owed Derek upwards of twenty favors by now. Perhaps even thirty. 

“It might be a spell,” Derek was already working on a couple of theories, apparently. “Or some kind of curse, which is worse. Much worse. We can discount you coming into any kind of magical creature heritage on your eighteenth birthday. That sort of thing only happens in shitty young adult novels, and also I would have sniffed that out by now.” 

Right, because Derek and Stiles spent that much time together – apart from a couple of awkward run-ins at the grocery store and that time with the golem two weeks ago, Stiles hadn’t actually seen Derek in at least a month. Or two. And he liked it that way. 

“You mean, Scott would have sniffed it out,” Stiles had to correct him. 

“Scott’s nose is not as great as you think,” Derek got all huffy about that for some reason. 

Well, that was rude and just wrong. Scott was not nearly as bad at being a wolf as Derek seemed to think he was (and not as great as Scott thought he was, but that was really not the point that Stiles was trying to make here). To think that they’d actually attempted to be in Derek’s pack before Scott had turned out to be a true Alpha. Those were the worst of times, honestly, and the True Alpha thing had basically been a godsend for everyone who wanted to get the hell away from Derek. Which was basically his entire pack. Whoops?

“Can you not insult my best friend for once?” Stiles was so over this. 

“But it’s so easy,” Derek, that petty dramatic asshole, just had to say it. 

Derek and Scott had never gotten along - not once in five years - but they’d managed to work together at some point, until the True Alpha thing happened. And suddenly they’d managed to unlearn everything Stiles had ever taught the two of them about playing nice and playing well with other wolves. Diplomacy was not their strong suit – there was a reason they’d made Boyd the pack diplomat, and not Scott or Derek or god forbid, Stiles. 

Erica was probably the only one worse suited for the role than Stiles. She was much better at being the Enforcer, the vicious Left Hand everyone feared and lusted after in equal measure. 

“Focus, Alpha Idiot,” Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, did you have any ideas at all?” Derek was going to require some kind of favor any second now. “Did you actually want me to help you? Because I can hang up and let you deal with it yourself. Since clearly Scott isn’t actually any help whatsoever. So surprising.” 

Sometimes Stiles was sick of the constant antagonism. However, this was not one of those times – he was going to make Derek choke on all of his words about Scott and the inferiority of the McCall pack some other time. He really wished that he could have handled this thing alone, but sometimes one had to work with idiots to get shit done. 

“Fuck you, I’m coming over,” Stiles announced. 

“I’ll lock my doors and windows,” Derek replied, and hung up on him. 

Because of course he did. Even though the door was going to be open once Stiles got there, because Derek wouldn’t actually let an opportunity to lord his superior bestiary and knowledge over Stiles slip away. He was far too petty to do something like that. 

* * *

The rebuilt Hale house – smaller, because it was just Derek – was kind of beautiful, and that just really pissed Stiles off, like a lot. Like, why did Derek even need a pack house when it was just him? Why had he even stuck around after his pack abandoned him, and why had he built a new house on the ashes of the old one? Why didn’t he just leave so they’d be rid of him already? 

But no, Derek had to be a stubborn asshole about that too. 

“I thought the door was going to be locked,” Stiles grinned triumphantly as he entered the house without any obstructions. “Der-Bear, I’m kind of disappointed in you.” 

Derek was on his stupidly comfortable couch – the one Stiles had fallen asleep on a couple of times after totally forced late night research sessions – already digging through some of the heavy tomes that had been carefully preserved in the Hale family vault for many generations. If he hadn’t been a werewolf, he probably would have been wearing glasses to complete the picture – which was something Derek did sometimes to ensnare helpless humans with fake smiles and even faker glasses. Apparently they made him seem more human. 

It was manipulative and rude and not something Stiles had dreamed about ever. 

“No glasses this time?” Stiles had to comment on that too. 

“Why would I bother?” Derek shot back, not even looking up. “It’s just you.” 

Honestly, if Derek’s nose wasn’t pretty good, he probably would have been robbed about a million times by now. He was always stuck in some kind of book, and he rarely bothered to look at people when they disturbed him during his oh so valuable reading time. When basically all his time was reading time, how did that even still matter? Pretentious rich dipshit. 

“I’m flattered,” Stiles dropped down onto the opposite side of the couch. “Throw me a useful book or something. I read faster than you do anyway.” 

Of course he was all the way on the far opposite side of the couch. He was not going to get within clawing distance of Derek – not that Derek would lash out at him unprovoked, but Stiles was very good at provoking even the most steady of tempers. And while their arguments usually just revolved around verbal attacks, Stiles was not going to take the risk. He was just a fragile little human in the den of an asshole Alpha werewolf, after all. 

“Not in Spanish, you don’t,” Derek just had to be a total fucking snob about knowing like four or five or even half a dozen languages. 

“Well, just give me an English one, then,” Stiles sighed heavily. 

He was pretty sure that Derek was going to hit him in the face with one of the heavier books for it, but he had to say it anyway. Because if he didn’t, Derek would win, and Stiles was never ever, ever going to let that happen if he had an option to say something about it. 

“Fine,” Derek seemed to be going over all the books out in front of him. 

There were quite a few of them, because apparently reading just one book at a time was something only boring, dumb humans did. Or whatever kind of fake superior attitude Derek had about his werewolf status. Stiles had long since lost interest. 

“Gimme,” he just said, and held out his hand. 

Stiles wondered if Derek could just plop the book into his hand without looking, because supposedly werewolves had excellent spatial awareness because they could hear the details of the way people moved. Which honestly sounded like more of Derek’s typical brand of pretentious bullshit, but Stiles was going to give it a shot anyway. 

But Derek ruined it by looking up, turning white as a sheet before shifting into a beta shift. 

“Fuck,” Derek growled. 

“What the fuck, dude?” Stiles had no idea what the fuck was going on here. “I don’t think you’ve spontaneously shifted even once in your life. Or have you? I doubt it, though. I bet you were born with your so-called perfect control and six pack abs and the ability to backflip your way out of a serious conversation. And all of the other inherent superiority things that you werewolves have - or, you born werewolves anyway. Scott was born a doofus like the rest of us humans - or, well, he was still a fragile human idiot when we met, anyway.”

This could not have been an Alpha thing, because he hadn’t actually seen Scott shift at all when they were at school together earlier. Scott had been a bit more rough with others and a bit more amicable with Stiles, but there had been no red eyes and certainly no shifting. Stiles hadn’t seen a single claw, and here was Derek, completely losing his shit. 

So clearly that supposed Alpha immunity wasn’t worth shit. 

“Stiles,” Derek was still growling, and apparently not done shifting. 

Holy shit! Derek was getting onto all fours, hair erupting all over his body, tearing his stupidly tight clothes at the seams. He was moaning in some kind of pain, and Stiles was just standing there, looking at him, not daring to make a single move. Because this was not something that he’d even known was possible - because this was not something that wolves were supposed to be able to do. Not even an Alpha could turn into an actual wolf. 

Except, that was very much what Derek was doing at the moment. 

“Holy shit,” Stiles had to start verbalizing his thoughts out loud or he was going to explode. “What the hell? What the actual fuck, Derek? What kind of trickery? I mean, go you, because this is kind of awesome, but what the fuck? You can turn into an actual  _ wolf _ ? That is probably the coolest thing that I have ever seen you do, like ever.” 

Derek never did anything cool, like ever. So this was a lot to deal with, because not only was this a thing that should not have been possible, but it also should have been Scott who’d suddenly developed an impossible ability - because that was basically the story of his life. 

What was so special about Derek? Basically nothing. 

But somehow, Derek had turned into a large, large wolf. Black fur, blood red Alpha eyes, and growling at Stiles, seemingly unable to look away from him. Clearly wolf Derek was just as suspicious of Stiles as the more human side of him, which probably should not have been as reassuring to Stiles as it turned out to be. But somehow, it made Stiles feel better that feral wolfy Derek didn’t suddenly want to be his buddy - and also didn’t tear out his throat. 

Because either of those options would have been fucking terrible. 

“Can every Alpha do this?” Stiles just had to know every single detail about this. “Like, if we just poke Scott enough, and say stuff that pisses him off, he’ll get super annoyed and just turn into an actual wolf? Please tell me that’s true, and that I can make that happen. I imagine his hide would be more brown than yours, but he’d be a super badass wolf nonetheless. Probably more badass than you. Even though this look actually kind of works for you.” 

That was probably a weird thing to say, but he’d already said it, so it was too late to walk it back anyway. And well, Derek would have heard it was true, right? So his dignity had already perished - not that anyone would ever assume that Stiles had dignity to begin with. 

“Are you gonna go full feral and get stuck this way?” Stiles sighed heavily, because he kind of missed the stupid comments Derek normally would have thrown at him. “Because that would kind of suck, dude. I mean, I can read a book by myself, but you’re the one with all the languages and whatever. I could use Google Translate, but that would take forever, and honestly, that would kind of suck. It’s my birthday, Derek. I don’t want to be stuck with you for my entire birthday. That’s no gift I could ever want. It’s not a gift anyone would want.” 

At this point he was just being an asshole on purpose to see what would happen. Was testing a wolf’s control impulsive and maybe a little stupid? Sure. But it was also worth its weight in gold, because this way Stiles finally got the chance to test Derek’s supposedly unshakeable control - which had already been revealed as a lie when Derek turned into a fucking  _ wolf _ just now. Also, this was probably his one chance to say shit with Derek not able to respond. 

Purposefully antagonizing Derek was fun. Winning when purposefully antagonizing Derek was even better - because this bullshit usually ended in a tie of some kind. 

So maybe it was a good thing that Derek hadn’t been able to turn back yet. Maybe it was a good thing that Stiles could basically say whatever the hell he wanted without having to face some kind of consequences along the lines of a verbal smackdown. Because Derek could deliver a verbal smackdown like the best of them (and yes, that included Stiles). 

“Do you even know how to turn back?” Stiles kept asking questions, because he could. 

There was no verbal response, of course, because wolves couldn’t talk like humans could - but he did get some kind of growl/snarl combo that seemed to say that Derek was pretending to be on top of this, even though he really wasn’t. Stiles could almost imagine the eyebrow configuration that would have gone with the statement if Derek had been wearing his human face while they were having this conversation. It was a glorious one. 

Stiles saw right through it of course, saw right through Derek’s pretense at being an actual functional person who had his shit together even a little bit. This was  _ Derek _ , after all. 

“Fine, I’m putting my dirty hands on your books,” Stiles told him with a grin. 

He promptly sat down in what had been Derek’s spot previously, just to annoy Derek even more with Stiles’ scent seeping into the cushions and ruining what had previously been a comfortable place for the idiot werewolf to sit. Derek was just going to have to deal with Stiles’ boy stank being all over his apartment - if he couldn’t get himself to shift back any time soon. 

It was a nice thought to have, even when he had hours and hours of research to look forward to with no person to annoy into getting him drinks and snacks. On his birthday! 

At least several of the books were actually in English, and that was at least somewhat helpful, even though Stiles basically had to start from scratch because Derek had made some seriously out there assumptions about curses and spells and whatever could have affected the Beacon Hills High School populace. Because apparently, he thought it was all on Stiles. 

Instead of thinking this was a spell that Stiles just happened to be immune to (what, that totally could be a thing), Derek had assumed that Stiles had attempted to cast a spell and failed, or paid someone to cast a spell on him that sort of backfired on him. Basically, Derek was trying to shove him into the Xander box, and Stiles was not having that, not ever. Not just because he was actually way more of a Willow, though lacking the werewolf boyfriend. 

Not that he wanted a werewolf boyfriend. Because the werewolves he knew…

Wow, his brain still hated him now that he was a grown-ass adult. That was good to know. 

“Stop ruining my organisational system,” the sudden sound of Derek’s voice was startling. 

“Stop making assumptions about my level of pathetic,” Stiles returned, not bothering to look up from his book of curses. “I don’t appreciate you thinking I’d fuck with magic just to get laid.” 

Stiles was absolutely down to fuck with magic - ever since Deaton had given him that weird speech about being a Spark, Stiles was pretty damn excited to unleash his inner Willow and start learning how to float pencils. But Deaton had never brought it up again, and whenever Stiles dropped heavy-handed hints about Sparks into any conversation he had with the seriously cryptic vet, Deaton just ignored him. 

So honestly, no one could blame him for fiddling around with magic on his own. 

The idea that he’d cast spells on the unsuspecting populace of the high school just because he wanted to get laid, though? That was just all kinds of offensive to him. 

“At least you’re not trying to lie about getting laid anymore,” Derek just had to insult him even more. “You really don’t understand just how much wolves can tell about what you’ve been doing and who you’ve been doing it with. And that’s not even counting us hearing your lies.” 

Yes, Derek really did have to take every fucking opportunity to make Stiles feel like an inferior being. It was just the way they communicated, and it just made Stiles less and less impressed with the Alpha. It gave him so many reasons why he was sure he’d chosen the right Alpha. 

Not that Stiles had ever even considered anyone but Scott for his Alpha. 

“Fuck you,” Stiles still wasn’t looking at the idiot. 

Because Derek was probably still naked, and Stiles really didn’t want to be traumatized by that any more than he already had been by Derek’s stupid aversion to shirts back when they were one pack. Derek’s nakedness was just offensive - Stiles felt like an inadequate twig in comparison, and he didn’t need another reason to be self-conscious about the way he looked when he was in a pack with supernaturally gorgeous idiots. 

Well, that and he didn’t need any more spank bank fuel from Derek. The chafing alone was…

Not something he was going to think about with Derek around. 

“Not with a ten foot pole,” Derek was closer now, it seemed. 

Stiles finally lifted his head, trying to figure out what Derek was doing (and trying to find out if he could look around again without wanting to poke his eyes out). Apparently Derek had managed to put on pants at least, even though a shirt had apparently been too much to ask. Which was fucking typical and Stiles totally didn’t sneak a peek at the tattoo on Derek’s back and the rippling muscles around it. Nope, that was not something he wanted to see. 

“Ten feet?” Stiles was ready to snark some more, though. “Not even ten inches, clearly.” 

Was it below the belt? Hell yes, in multiple ways. But it was just so easy. 

“Juvenile humor, of course,” Derek sighed heavily, as if it was such a burden to be having this conversation with Stiles. “Why do I ever hold out hope you learn to act like an adult?” 

Derek was grumbling as he sat down on the opposite side of the couch (Stiles’ old spot, naturally, because it was the furthest from Stiles he could be while still technically being on the same piece of furniture). The sectional was one of those ridiculous pieces of furniture that felt so out of place of what was essentially a bachelor pad. Why would Derek need a couch that big if he was the only one who ever used it? Just to give Stiles miles and miles of distance to put between the two of them? Yeah, okay, maybe that was a valid argument there. 

“Joke’s on you,” Stiles grinned smugly at Derek. “I’m actually an adult now.” 

Yes, he was absolutely going to keep reminding Derek of that, especially because this was his birthday and instead of accepting that birthday kiss from Lydia (and maybe even the threesome too), Stiles was stuck with Derek fucking Hale. It was very important to him to make sure that Derek knew of the epic sacrifice he was making here on his special day. 

Plus, Derek didn’t get to treat him like an insolent kid any longer - because honestly, just because Derek had been born an old man, didn’t mean others had to be as well. 

“God help us all,” Derek groaned. 

Stiles looked at him, really looked at him and the way Derek was looking anywhere but at Stiles, and suddenly started putting some pieces together. Because while Derek could have just pretended to focus on one or several of his stupid foreign language books, instead he was looking at a million different places in an effort to avoid looking at Stiles. 

“You can’t even look at me,” Stiles tried so hard not to laugh outright. “The Big Bad Wolf is avoiding the eyes of the adorable human teenager. That’s… Something.” 

What, he could totally call himself adorable. Because he was. 

The idea of Derek not looking at him because he was actually a little scared of what would happen if he did happen to glance at Stiles? Fucking hilarious, and the easiest way to make Stiles feel like a total badass. So apparently not even Derek was completely immune to his wiles today. Even though it didn’t express itself in the usual way. 

Probably because Derek hated him and had no intention of getting near him. 

“Are you scared of me?” Stiles was probably gloating a little right about now. 

“Shut up,” Derek was rolling his eyes, as was his wont. 

Though, the theory of Derek looking at Stiles starting the effects of whatever was going on might have been a solid one. Stiles tried to think of how the school day had started, tried to put together what the effects were and how they got started, and who seemed most affected by his strange thrall today. It was mostly the people who had classes with him - which made sense - and meant that Lydia would be highly affected, seeing as they shared most of their classes as the two frontrunners for the valedictorian position. 

It also made sense of Scott being less affected - both with him being an Alpha and with him sharing very little classes with Stiles at this point. And the Betas didn’t really share a ton of his classes - Boyd didn’t even share a lunch period with them, so of course Boyd hadn’t gotten weird until they were both in lacrosse together. 

But did that mean that looking at Stiles was enough to drive people wild? If it hadn’t been so fucked up, Stiles would have been all kinds of pleased by that idea. 

“I think you’re a Siren,” Derek was still only looking at the books. 

“But I don’t even sing,” Stiles thought that was a completely ridiculous theory. “Sirens are the mermaid-like creatures singing sailors to death, and while I’m currently even more alluring than I usually am, I haven’t been singing to anyone. Because that would certainly break the spell.” 

Look, Stiles was an Honors student, in all AP classes. He’d read the Iliad and the Odyssey in middle school (because Greek mythology was awesome and Stiles had been a nerd back then as well), and he knew all about the tales that were told about sirens in those books. And honestly, just about nothing about those tales seemed to match his situation. 

For one, Stiles was a dude without any merman parts. And… singing? No one had ever wanted to hear Stiles sing, ever. His rendition of Let It Go at pack karaoke had been met with entirely universal booing, which honestly? So fucking rude. 

So clearly Derek was an idiot and therefore completely wrong about this theory. 

“You’re a terrible singer,” Derek at least acknowledged that much. “Did you talk to all of the people who seemed affected? Or talk  _ at _ them, at least? Because they probably didn’t actually listen to what you were saying. No one does.” 

Nobody marks you. That was what Derek was saying here, and it was very familiar. 

“Are you trying to Much Ado me?” Stiles got the reference. 

Again, AP classes - even English lit. Stiles knew his Shakespeare, even though he was more of a sciences guy than a humanities one. That and because of Doctor Who he’d watched this modernized version of Much Ado About Nothing… Several times. 

“I’m trying to make you shut up before this curse makes me do things,” Derek growled. “There is not enough brain bleach in the world if this thing makes me like you. So shut up.” 

Honestly, it was only human for Stiles to get a bit offended by that, right? Just the idea that anyone found him  _ that _ repulsive hurt. It had absolutely nothing to do with Derek in particular, just with the fact that Derek sounded like he would rather stab himself than have to deal with any of the traditional effects of this weird curse. Because it had to be a curse. 

“But you don’t like me yet?” Stiles was totally not disappointed at that. “Because it really didn’t take all that much exposure for any of the others. I was working off the hypothesis that Alpha werewolves aren’t as affected. Scott was nicer to me, but it wasn’t like he was even half as horny as Jackson Whittemore. Scotty didn’t offer me a threesome with him and Kira - not that I ever wanted him to do that, because he’s my brother. But still. It makes sense.” 

Okay, so Scott wasn’t actually his brother - even though Stiles was definitely seeing some development in the McCall-Stilinski family bonding that might mean that they were heading in that direction. Maybe when Stiles and Scott both left for college their parents might get that empty nest syndrome and bond about being on their own again and… Eventually get together and create the McCall-Stilinski family. Because no one else was good enough for John Stilinski - or for Melissa McCall, for that matter. They only deserved the best. 

But yes, that did mean that Scott was his brother and that would have made it weird if Scott had been affected by the spell/curse thing. But he wasn’t, not in that way. So, Alpha hypothesis. 

“Alphas aren’t immune to Sirens,” Derek knew that somehow. 

Because apparently he’d memorized parts of the book already. Ugh, overachiever. 

“Guess you’re wrong about the siren thing,” Stiles knew he’d won that one. 

Because Scott wasn’t affected, and Derek hadn’t suddenly been overcome with a need to have Stiles (wow, that would have been a hot porn concept, one he certainly wasn’t adding to the spank bank, of course). And if Alphas weren’t immune to sirens, that meant that this was something other than that. Stiles was something other than a siren. 

“There must be another reason for my immunity,” Derek was far too fucking stubborn. “Or you just haven’t looked at me enough, or talked to me enough. So maybe shut up. I will gag you.” 

So, what, he was going to ignore the fact that Stiles’ presence, and his eyes on Derek, had actually made him turn into a fucking wolf? Sure, it wasn’t anything like the traditional effect of a siren, but it was some kind of effect, one that probably should have given him a clue about what was actually going on here. There had to be some kind of spell or curse or creature in at least one of these books that had the magic wolf transformation effect. 

“Consensual kink only, Der-Bear,” Stiles just had to get the last word in. 

Did he actually want to shut up? Not really. Still, the idea of Derek turning into another one of those simpering idiots at school was kind of horrifying. 

“Alright, we’re leaving,” Derek suddenly decided. “I’m driving. There’s an expert on curses I’ve been communicating with living about two hours away from here. You can shut up and keep your hands off the aux cord. If you do, I’ll buy you a milkshake.” 

Straight up bribery. Yeah, that might work. 

“As long as we don’t spend two hours in complete silence,” Stiles just had to get that out. 

And now he was actually going to stay silent, even though Derek still acted like he was every bit as annoyed with Stiles as he usually was. So honestly, if Stiles’ voice did have any kind of effect on him, they probably would have noticed by now. 

So clearly it wasn’t that. But apparently Derek was scared enough of getting fake feelings for Stiles that he was  _ not _ willing to risk it. And well, free milkshake, so...

* * *

Two hours in a car with Derek Hale should have been considered straight-up torture, especially when he was not supposed to say anything the whole time, not even when Derek actively tried to torture him by playing non-stop boyband music from the most evil Spotify playlist that Stiles had ever experienced. Honestly, when he had he even had the time to get that set up?

Sure, not all boybands were bad, but Stiles being forced to listen to at least an hour of it non-stop? That was actually going to kill him, especially with him not being allowed to comment or even sing along and annoy Derek into changing the playlist to anything but this. 

At least Derek wasn’t singing along either. Not that Stiles knew what Derek sounded like when he sang - because Derek had never felt comfortable enough to sing in front of him. 

“This is nice,” Derek commented, a smug grin on his face. “No endless yammering.”

Well, fuck that asshole. So much. So hard - and nope, that was officially getting too dirty, and Stiles really didn’t need that when he couldn’t even talk to distract Derek (and himself) from whatever was going on inside his pants. Honestly, this was getting a bit ridiculous - he was usually much better at dismissing those errant thoughts. 

Stiles flipped him off, because he could at least still do that, before turning to look out the window as a way of distracting himself while simultaneously trying to find out just where they were going. They had been heading to Beacon Heights, but they’d passed that place a while ago - because it wasn’t actually a two-hour drive to that stupid place. And since they were on the highway now, Derek could be abducting him to… wherever he wanted. 

And wasn’t that such a lovely idea. 

“I’m sure you want to know all about the wolf thing,” Derek was still gloating. “You’re just dying to hear everything I know about the full shift. Because that’s not something Scott can do.” 

Did he have to be an asshole about that too? Because yes, Stiles very much wanted to know every little detail about the full shift, if that was what it was called - and not just in case Scott managed to pick up the skill the way he picked up random wolf titles and skills (secretly Stiles still thought that the whole True Alpha thing sounded kind of hokey). Mostly, Stiles wanted to know because he liked knowing things, and he wanted explanations for his frenemy (or was that too friendly a thing to call Derek?) actually managing to turn into a wolf right in front of him. 

It was something that should not have been possible, but something that happened anyway, somehow. And though Stiles’ entire life was basically impossible at this point, it was still something so far outside of the bounds of his new normal that Stiles was going to need one hell of an explanation to make it make sense somehow. Because the laws of physics simply did not work that way and magic was just too convenient an excuse. 

Even though it was probably the actual reason. And, just… What was his life? 

“Should I tell you?” Derek was just drawing it out now. 

Because Derek Hale was an asshole who lived to fuck with Stiles, apparently. He didn’t have a job (not that Stiles knew of, anyway, and he’d never seen him work), so clearly he had nothing better to do with his time than to act like a superior asshole and make fun of Stiles - and the rest of the McCall pack - whenever they got near each other. 

“Surprisingly, not as fun to tease you if you’re quiet,” Derek huffed before finally starting in on his explanation. “The full shift is something that is only for so-called evolved wolves. That was what my mom used to say, anyway. Not just because she was one of them, she said.” 

Specters of Derek’s past happiness were never a fun thing to deal with, because he always got maudlin and weird about it. And yeah, Stiles couldn’t blame him because it wasn’t like he ever talked about his own mother, but it was still annoying as fuck because there were so many emotional minefields to avoid with Derek. Usually he didn’t mention any of this out loud, though, he just pulled faces whenever someone said something that reminded him of his old Pack. 

Clearly Stiles was the only one who’d noticed that, though. 

“It’s a genetic trait,” Derek continued, getting at least a little scientific with it. “It runs in the Hale line, but not everyone has the ability. Peter didn’t, and it pissed him off to no end. Mom used to lord it over him when they were kids, apparently. Not that Mom was able to do it when she was young - she didn’t manage to do it until after she met Dad for the first time.” 

Of course it would have pissed Peter Hale off that there was another thing that he couldn’t do - the man had serious issues with matters of power and ability. He wanted to be the most powerful wolf that ever lived, and he was just fucked up enough in the head that he thought it was completely normal to start killing other wolves to get there. 

He wasn’t even the only one who’d had that awful idea, and he’d had it more than once. He’d had it when he killed his niece, when he turned Scott in the hopes of increasing his power, and when he attempted to kill his nephew only to be killed instead. 

“But the ability was there,” Derek pointedly looked straight ahead, completely focused on the road and pretending Stiles wasn’t even there. “Apparently that was something that born wolves can just tell. Or Alphas can, anyway. My mother’s mother was the Alpha before her, and she told her that she’d be able to do it one day. And when Laura and I were young, mom told us that if we worked really hard on control, we would be able to do it too, one day.” 

So Derek had known that it was possible, and he still hadn’t told Stiles? Or, well, anyone, really - he should have at least informed the rest of the pack that there was this completely badass ability that he would eventually learn. Maybe then they wouldn’t have abandoned him so easily when Scott became an Alpha. Nah, it probably wouldn’t have made all that much of a difference, if any. Because it didn’t actually make Derek a better or more interesting person. 

Stiles was pretty damn sure that nothing was going to be able to do that. Derek was just like that. 

“Laura never did,” Derek started, and then just stopped. 

Laura was one of the more raw wounds that Derek carried with him, and Stiles was very careful never to mention what had happened to her and how Scott and Stiles had been asshole teenagers about it back then. Because even though it had been almost five years since Laura Hale had passed, Derek was still blaming himself for it - more so than he did for the other stuff. 

Honestly, Stiles hadn’t even thought that was possible. 

He’d met Laura once or twice, mostly when he was a kid, and then this one time just after she’d gotten back to town. She’d been beautiful, with a big personality to make up for her rather petite stature - and she’d winked at Stiles when he was so very bored, being forced to stay at the station even though he was old enough to stay home alone. But then again, he’d earned that by making far too much trouble with Scott. 

Still, he remembered the beautiful girl with the smirk on her face - which honestly made a lot more sense when Stiles found out about werewolves, because clearly Laura had been able to hear exactly what Stiles had been muttering about Deputy Haigh. 

“I didn’t think I would either,” Derek was all maudlin and depressing now, and Stiles was trying so hard not to be an asshole about that, even non-verbally. “I figured that it was something only for wolves in an actual Pack. Not just the last Hale standing, because of some weird curse.” 

Stiles made an inquisitive noise, because well, he’d definitely put that together, but he hadn’t expected Derek to do it as well. He always thought Derek was an idiot who would rather be in denial about Stiles having any kind of effect on him. Even if it was just an effect on his upchuck reflex, or whatever, and not anything particularly significant. 

“Of course it’s related to your siren thing,” Derek huffed, loudly. “Magical wolf transformations don’t just happen on a random afternoon. It’s a battle thing, or a mate thing, not an annoying teenager harassing me thing. You are not that terrifying, even with the siren powers.” 

Of course that made Stiles flip him off again, because they probably had another forty-five minutes or so to go, and not only had he not gotten a milkshake yet, Derek still had that stupid fucking playlist playing. And now Derek was insulting him yet again, and he wasn’t allowed to say anything about it - not that he usually put a lot of stock in only doing things that he was allowed to do. But well, they were in a moving vehicle and Stiles did not want to die. 

“I’m pretty sure the full shift was an attempt to defend myself against the siren abilities,” Derek pondered out loud, and Stiles was sure he was so very wrong about that. “Because if I classify as an animal, a Siren can’t exactly be all that tempting, even if I retain my human intelligence as a wolf. The instincts are just different - and Sirens are all about emotions and instincts.” 

Ugh, it was so annoying when Derek said something that could actually be considered smart - because Stiles really did not want to be impressed by him, not ever. And this reasoning actually sort of made sense, which meant that Stiles was probably supposed to get impressed. 

He really fucking wanted a milkshake now. Or birthday cake. But since Derek was probably not going to provide the latter, a milkshake would just have to do. 

“Milkshake,” Stiles said, because one word wasn’t going to kill them. 

Derek still startled, claws popping out against the steering wheel as he somehow managed to keep the car completely steady. Clearly he was freaked out by the single word, and kind of pissed off (his eyes were very, very red), but he was still too scared of Stiles’ magical abilities (shut up, he totally wasn’t an actual Siren) to even glance in his direction. 

Which meant that Stiles was winning here. 

“If you manage to shut up until we get there,” Derek warned him again, like he hadn’t understood the first time, “I’ll stop at the next exit and get you a Blizzard.” 

Fine, Stiles could probably settle for Dairy Queen instead of a proper diner milkshake. 

* * *

The location of the so-called curse expert was really not what Stiles had been expecting. He had been expecting some kind of magic shop with weird herbs and lots of hippies, but instead they pulled over in front of a bookstore that looked completely normal, at least from the outside. 

Maybe it was way cooler on the inside? 

“I haven’t called ahead,” Derek warned him. “She should be here, though. She owns the place and lives upstairs. And she’s old enough to be your mot- Old enough that you would not want her to be all over you. So please, for the love of God, keep your mouth shut. Don’t look at her at all. Don’t unleash the Siren thing on her, or we will never solve this.” 

Right, like Stiles could help it. There was some serious victim-blaming going on here, and Stiles was starting to get more than a little sick of it. He’d been mostly quiet for two hours - which was an incredibly long time for him - and he hadn’t even looked at Derek much. He’d been practically perfectly behaved, and instead of appreciating that, Derek was grumpy and unhappy and asking for even more impossible things. Because nothing was good enough for him. 

At least the store was empty, and they didn’t have to deal with random bystanders. 

“Agnieszka, it’s Derek,” Derek called out into the empty store. “I have a situation.” 

That was a Polish name. That was definitely a Polish name. The Polish version of Agnes - which, whenever there was a witch named Agnes (not that it happened often, or ever), Stiles would have to get a prophecy joke in there. But no, he wasn’t allowed to talk, so he just had to think real hard and hope that this woman had some nice and accurate prophecies as well as some kind of magical ability. And the knowledge to get him back to normal ASAP. 

It took a little while, but a middle-aged woman came walking towards them, and Stiles quickly averted his eyes before he could make this even more awkward. He pondered on how normal she seemed, though, because nothing about Agnieszka screamed Witch. 

“Derek, dear,” the woman was actually smiling at the sight of him, which was just disturbing. “It’s been such a long time since you dropped by. You should have called ahead though. I could have made you those cookies you like, the cinnamon ones.” 

Oh God, really? Was this woman actually someone who babied Derek and baked him cookies and treated him like a kid who could be managed with treats? Maybe this wasn’t completely awful after all, because at least he’d found out some glorious blackmail material to use on Derek for the rest of all eternity. Because Derek Hale chatting with an old lady over cookies? Wow. 

Not that Agnieszka was all that old. She was probably his Dad’s age, maybe. 

Still, Stiles was really struggling not to laugh out loud at Derek. It was just so weird. 

“Maybe next time,” Derek grudgingly admitted that in front of Stiles, probably trying hard not to growl out loud. “We have a bit of a situation that we really need your help with.” 

Stiles kind of wanted to see Agnieszka’s response to that, so he looked up briefly, trying to get a measure of her. She seemed calm, which made sense if she was as proficient at dealing with magical spells and curses as Derek seemed to think she was. People who dealt with magic probably didn’t startle easily - which might have explained why Deaton didn’t want to teach Stiles magic, because flailing was probably a bad idea while casting spells. 

“Hello dear, you look kind of familiar,” the woman addressed Stiles too, and Stiles immediately looked away from her again. “Oh, you’re a shy one. Don’t worry, just because I do magic doesn’t mean I would do anything to hurt you. Well, apart from a little mischief, maybe.” 

Mischief. Stiles had always liked that word, even though it did sting to be reminded of his old nickname. Still, it had something so impish about it, something puckish and magical and delightful. It meant only mostly harmless pranks and shenanigans, and since that was basically where Stiles lived, the nickname had suited him. It probably still worked far too well, but he hadn’t used it in ages. Not since he’d started going by the family nickname of Stiles. 

“He’s the problem,” Derek said, because of course he did. 

“Hey!” Stiles responded, a total reflex. 

But that was just offensive, and he wished he could lash out at Derek, but he figured that if his gaze and his words had an effect on people, his touch probably made it even worse. Not that he’d noticed too much of a difference in Erica, or in Jackson (ugh), but they’d been pretty much ensnared already, so maybe it was already too late for them or something. 

“Shut up,” Derek urged him, reaching to clap a hand over his mouth. 

Stiles tried to move out of the way, because of the whole magical curse thing, but Derek actually wouldn’t let him, because he was clearly an idiot who hadn’t bothered to consider the whole curse transferred by touch angle. Because he was an idiot. Yes, he had to say it again. 

“You’re Claudia’s boy, aren’t you?” Agnieszka’s question stopped Stiles in his tracks. 

He gaped at her, too surprised to think about looking away. Too flabbergasted to consider that Derek’s hand was over his mouth, until he decided to take the mature route and lick it to make Derek release him. It somehow did not work. 

Apparently Derek wasn’t startled by a little spit, or even grossed out. 

Werewolves were freaks like that. Which should not have been surprising. 

“Yes,” Derek answered for him, because apparently he actually remembered the name of Stiles’ mother. “Claudia and John Stilinski. He’s Stiles. He goes by Stiles.” 

Okay, so Derek knew both his parents’ names. Which was weird, because he honestly didn’t think that Derek knew the names of Boyd’s parents, or Erica’s, or even Isaac’s. Sure, he knew Melissa’s name, and he’d been almost respectful to Chris Argent once upon a time, but this was kind of weird. In a way only Creeper Derek could manage, really. 

“Nice to see you again, Mieczyslaw,” Agnieszka somehow knew that dreadful name. 

Ugh, so embarrassing. So unnecessary. There was a reason he went by Stiles. 

Stiles did not want to see Derek’s reaction to hearing that name, so he stayed focused on Agnieszka, because she hadn’t gotten all creepy on him yet, and maybe if he stayed quiet the whole time, she never would. Because he really didn’t want someone who knew his Mom once upon a time to get all lovey-dovey and gross with him. There were boundaries that he never wanted to cross, not ever. He didn’t even want to think about it. 

He was suddenly really glad that just the Stilinski thing had freaked him out enough to get the hell away from Coach. Because if he’d said anything else, that probably would have ended in things that Stiles would have been permanently traumatized by. 

“Say that again,” Derek basically demanded. 

“Mieczyslaw,” Agnieszka repeated, slowly and carefully. 

Really? Was she actually going to waste precious time teaching this asshole to say his name? Was that even necessary? No one needed to know his actual name - Stiles was pretty sure that Scott either didn’t know or he’d entirely forgotten about it. And he liked it that way. 

Just the idea of Scott trying to pronounce the monstrosity was giving him a sympathy headache. 

“Mieczyslaw,” Derek repeated, hardly even struggling with the unfamiliar sounds. 

That was just really fucking rude, okay. He made it sound easy. And sure, Mieczyslaw wasn’t actually the worst Polish name his parents could have saddled him with, but his teachers had always had such trouble with it. Stiles himself hadn’t been able to say it right for the longest time (which was a story he really hoped Agnieszka didn’t know and wouldn’t tell Derek about). So why the hell was Derek the asshole saying it as if it was basically like John? 

Though, technically his Dad wasn’t a John either. Janusz was just too Polish for him. 

Like father, like son? 

“Of course you can say it well,” Agnieszka, however, was not surprised at Derek’s skill. “With your language abilities. How many languages was it again? Six?” 

Really? Fucking really?

Okay, technically Stiles kind of knew about that already, but it was still a lot to have Derek ducking his head and pretending he wasn’t an arrogant little shit. To have him pretend that he wasn’t the kind of guy who liked showing off the millions of books he had in half a dozen different languages. When honestly, Stiles had noticed all too well that Derek was proud of his collection and proud of his ability to read it - and whenever Stiles had dared to call him out on bragging, Derek just turned into a total asshole about it. 

“Seven, by now,” Derek looked almost bashful when Stiles dared to glance at him. “English, French, Spanish, Italian, Latin, Russian and Japanese.” 

Seven languages? Stiles somehow still had issues trying to manage his rudimentary Polish and his even more rudimentary Latin (just beast-related, of course) with his attempt at high school Spanish class. He’d taken the class just to be able to understand what Scott’s extended relatives kept calling him over the holidays, but it hadn’t actually got him anywhere.

“The Japanese is new,” Agnieszka was perfectly happy to go off-topic. 

“I met someone who speaks it,” Derek shrugged, as if that wasn’t actually a juicy piece of intel that Stiles was totally going to use against him. “But that’s not why we’re here.” 

Someone in Derek’s life spoke Japanese? Derek had people in his life? Derek had a single  _ person _ in his life? Derek didn’t associate with people, not that Stiles knew of anyway, and he knew just about everything about Derek. Or well, he knew more about Derek than anyone else still alive, he was sure of that much. No one else had been allowed to get as close as Stiles had, no one else had figured out Derek’s involvement in the Hale fire and his actual relationship with Kate Argent. Stiles was the only one who’d managed to put those pieces together. 

Stiles was the only one who knew why Derek hated himself. Stiles was the only one who knew him - so why didn’t he know about this mysterious Japanese-speaking person? 

“I don’t imagine you would be,” Agnieszka nodded. 

“Stiles is having a weird day,” Derek grinned a little, and Stiles had to fight not to punch him. “People are weirdly nice to him, and the love of his life offered him a threesome with her boyfriend. The girl has never even noticed his existence before.” 

Great, even now Derek just had to make fun of him. He could have explained the issue in a dozen different ways, but he chose to use the one that involved making fun of Stiles for being in love with a beautiful and intelligent woman who just wasn’t ready to be with him. Or to talk to him, or even to acknowledge his existence when she wasn’t under a spell. 

Yes, of course Stiles knew that it wasn’t actually going to happen. But it was easier to be in love with Lydia than to deal with the fact that he might have feelings for someone even more out of his league. Someone who actually acknowledged his existence, but never in a good way. 

That was not something that Stiles wanted to think about. 

“It’s your eighteenth birthday, isn’t it?” Agnieszka turned to Stiles. 

And that was a very random guess for someone Stiles technically hadn’t met before - even though he wasn’t completely sure if his Mom had ever dragged him here when he was just a precocious little shit, instead of the full-blown asshole he’d grown into. Perhaps he had been there before, and he had just been too young to remember it properly. 

But still, even though she knew his mother, it was weird that Agnieszka somehow remembered his age and connected it to the craziness that was currently going on. 

“How do you know?” Derek had to be the one asking the questions. 

Even though Stiles desperately wanted to do the interrogation himself - because while Derek hadn’t been completely terrible at it so far, he lacked the kind of police instinct that Stiles was pretty sure he had in spades - and not just because it was genetic. Stiles was the one who was good at making connections, at pushing people just enough when Derek was the kind of person who either walked away or pushed too far and ruined it. 

“And you’re immune?” The witch seemed to think that was the most interesting bit of information related to their problem. “You are, aren’t you? Everyone else has been attracted to him, and yet you’re still annoyed by him - or you act like it anyway. I don’t think you’re half as annoyed at him as you pretend to be, but that’s not something for me to get involved in.” 

Wow, to think that Stiles had thought that Agnieszka was pretty decent at this before. Not so much anymore, because for some stupid reason she actually thought that Derek didn’t completely hate Stiles. And that was just ridiculous. 

“I’m not immune,” Derek had to argue. “Not completely. I turned into a wolf.” 

So Agnieszka was definitely aware of werewolves, and of Derek’s identity in particular - which made sense if Derek had discussed magic and such with her before. But for him to reveal his experience in the full shift to her was odd. For Derek to give any information that they hadn’t outright asked for was a one in a million moment - and honestly, even when Stiles asked him for shit, Derek still preferred not to give him a straight answer. 

Even though neither of them was a straight anything. 

“Derek, dear, you do that all the time,” Agnieszka was delightfully patronizing. 

“An actual wolf,” Derek was forced to clarify. “On four legs. Fur. No longer human. A wolf.” 

Okay, that was kind of funny, and Stiles had to work at not laughing at Derek. At any other moment he probably would have, but right now he just didn’t want to distract from the bigger problem - and from the way Agnieszka was so very amused at Derek’s silly babbling. 

“I never heard of the spell having that effect,” Agnieszka sounded delighted, as if she was about to start taking notes of this supposedly extraordinary thing. “A true face - your true self is a wolf.” 

Well, yeah. Derek was a fucking werewolf. So of course that was his true face, or his true self, or whatever it was that the witch was calling it. But it wasn’t Derek’s only true face, right? Because a werewolf was always both wolf and man, and in Derek’s case that made a total of three faces. So why had the wolf face been chosen as the true face. 

And why did that even matter with a spell that turned Stiles into a siren?

“True self?” Derek was putting something together, it seemed. “The true face of… Oh no.” 

More stuff that Stiles didn’t know about, stuff that Derek somehow did because he was a know-it-all from a family of know-it-alls who all kept records. So clearly there was some other twist to this spell that they hadn’t considered yet, and it had to do with Derek. And that was wrong and disturbing, because why was Derek different from all of the others? 

Was his hatred for Stiles actually that powerful? 

“I cast the spell,” Agnieszka turned to him, not seeming worried at all about Stiles looking her in the eye now. “I did it a few years ago, after running into your Dad randomly and realizing that I’d been the worst friend to Claudia and to both of you Stilinski men as well. I was distraught when she died, and instead of reaching out, I closed myself off and pushed you away.” 

So Agnieszka had been more than an acquaintance, more than just a random person who’d known Claudia Stilinski back in the day. So how come Stiles hadn’t met her before? How come he hadn’t been introduced to her before? How come he didn’t even know she existed? 

“Did you know her well?” Derek asked, because Stiles couldn’t. 

Speaking was probably still a bad idea, even though the spell wasn’t as simple as he’d thought. 

“I had to make it up to you,” Agnieszka was still trying to convince Stiles. “My best friend’s son, becoming a man. Without Claudia’s support, and without me there to train your Spark.” 

Best friend? Not just a friend, not just someone, but Claudia’s best friend? She’d been his mother’s best friend, and still she’d just fucking bailed after she died, because of some stupid reason that Stiles didn’t even care about. Because here was someone who’d actually known his Mom, and known her well, and maybe had stories about her that Stiles hadn’t heard about. 

Stories that might explain why Agnieszka was talking about a Spark. 

“My Spark?” Stiles was just hit with non-stop surprises, one after the other. 

“I always suspected you’d be like me,” Agnieszka looked away then, eyes wet with tears. “I promised her I’d look after you a bit. Her little Mischief. But she got more and more sick, and she just… forgot. And when she was gone, so did I.” 

So, wait, Agnieszka was a Spark too? And Deaton hadn’t been completely full of shit when he gave Stiles that speech about the mountain ash? And Stiles hadn’t been completely out of line when he’d imagined himself being magic? He had magic? And Agnieszka had known all along? 

Did that mean his Mom had known about magic? About Stiles’ magic? 

“What does that have to do with today?” Derek tried to get them back on topic. 

“I wanted to give you every happiness I could,” Agnieszka was still there, pleading with Stiles. “I know I didn’t exactly show it in the right way. I know I should have been there instead of trying to substitute it with a spell. But I wanted you to have love. True love.” 

True love? Was there such a thing? It seemed easier to believe in werewolves than it was to believe in something as outlandish as true love. Because Stiles had seen werewolves, had battled monsters and creatures he’d never expected to see in the flesh. But he hadn’t seen any proof of the magical kind of true love that Agnieszka seemed to be speaking of. He hadn’t seen any of that True Love’s Kiss, happily ever after kind of bullshit. That didn’t exist. 

“I found the spell to turn you into a Siren for the day,” the witch continued. 

“I told you so,” Derek grinned smugly. 

At least he could still count on Derek to be a complete asshole about being right. 

It was probably a good thing that they hadn’t actually bet money on it, because Stiles already didn’t have a lot of money on hand. And Derek had more than enough. And also, just having Derek in front of him, not so silently gloating about being right… That was bad enough. Soon enough, Derek was going to start believing that he was actually smarter than Stiles. And that was just never going to do - Stiles was going to have to train that out of him. 

“So what does that mean?” Stiles had to ask. 

“It means that your voice is like a siren song to people,” Agnieszka was ever so patient as she attempted to explain. “You appeal to everyone, by giving them things they actually want. Your voice sounds like their deepest desires - and so they try to get closer to you.” 

Deepest, darkest desires or whatever? What was this, Lucifer? Was Stiles able to talk to people and wiggle his eyebrows a little to make them reveal their secrets? Because none of that had happened when he’d attempted to talk to people today. No, everyone had apparently been heading straight for creep town, population: everyone in Beacon Hills High School. 

But it did have some more positive connotations. Stiles was definitely into those. 

“So Lydia does want to have sex with me,” Stiles exaggeratedly fist-pumped. 

“Or she’s bored with her relationship,” Agnieszka shot that horse in the face almost immediately. “And she’d like to spice it up. Her boyfriend was interested too, I imagine?” 

Really? He didn’t even get to have that? 

He really had to go back to that conversation and re-evaluate, thinking of how Jackson had been the one pulling Stiles close, while Lydia had stared for a bit and then started promising Stiles basically all the things he’d been dreaming of since he first fell in love with her. It had never been about Stiles having Lydia, it had always been about the both of them (Jackson and Lydia) having Stiles. Together. Only together. 

“Far too interested,” Stiles muttered, trying not to think of Jackson’s hands on him. 

“He might feel the same way,” Agnieszka just wrecked all his hopes about this. “He might be attracted to men but unsure of how to express it - he might even be attracted to you. Or he just wants to please his girlfriend but he feels her pulling away from him.” 

Well, that was not a complete surprise. The idea of Jackson being conflicted about his sexuality explained several conversations between Jackson and Danny that he’d been unfortunate enough to overhear. Not that there was anything wrong with those conversations - it was just that Stiles really didn’t want to be within earshot of Jackson talking about that kind of stuff. Because one: ew, Jackson. And two: Jackson would have murdered him for eavesdropping. 

“Isaac wanted friendship,” Derek picked up on what the witch was trying to say. “Scott wants to be your brother, at your side, your defender. I’m sure Erica pulled you closer as well, trying to make you more of a part of your pack. Even your coach might have faith in you.” 

Yeah, everything seemed to make at least some sense until Derek started talking about Coach - because there was no way in hell that the man had any kind of respect for Stiles as a person, or even as a general concept. Coach didn’t respect anyone - but then again, he did seem to respect Stiles more than he did Greenberg. And that was something. Probably. 

“Ew,” Stiles wanted to outright dismiss that last bit. “But what about the people grabbing my ass? Am I just a vessel for their groping tendencies? Do they just want to get laid?” 

There had been a surprising amount of ass-grabbing and teasing caresses. Even Harley had showed up, leaning against his locker and using some blatant come-ons that Stiles would never have expected to come out of her mouth. She hadn’t even talked to him since middle school, when Scott got bitten and shit got crazy, but she’d still been all over Stiles today. 

“Jesus Christ,” Derek sighed. “Are you really set on believing no one could ever be attracted to you? Because sometimes it’s really just about Occam’s Razor. The simplest explanation.” 

If it had been anyone else, Stiles would have been all over that. Not because Derek actually appeared to be saying that it was likely that people were attracted to Stiles (because that didn’t mean anything related to what Derek thought of Stiles), but because he was being a dipshit while pushing Occam’s Razor and that was so stupidly Stiles’ type that he was having a little trouble not going for it, even though it was  _ Derek _ . 

So he had to distract himself, and anyone else as well. 

“Anyone attracted to me is under a spell,” Stiles drew the correct conclusion. 

“You’re an idiot,” Derek replied, sounding positively pained. 

Wasn’t that just… weird? Derek was the one always commenting on Stiles not being all that, or him being annoying, and a bunch of other stuff like that. So why did it matter to him that Stiles recognized the non-existent appeal Derek seemed to believe he had? Was Derek just trying to mess with him for some stupid reason? If so, Stiles could definitely pay that forward. 

“You have no hidden desires, then?” Stiles was trying to figure out just how Derek fit into all of this. “Or you just wanted to be close to your family, and this was all the spell could give you?” 

Maybe he went a bit too far on that one. 

He hadn’t said it to hurt Derek, he was honestly just trying to figure it all out. He just wanted to know why Derek had responded the way he had, instead of trying to be nicer to Stiles like everyone else. But of course Derek was none too happy about his deepest desire being an impossible one, and even less happy about Stiles exposing him like this. Derek never liked it when Stiles had him all figured out, as if there was something else that Stiles had gotten too close to by looking more closely at Derek. There was always another secret with him. 

“Sounds like it,” Derek looked like he’d been slapped. 

“Derek is immune,” Agnieszka interrupted, reminding Stiles that she was still there. “But that has nothing to do with his family. It has everything to do with the reason for the curse. Love. In a curse like this one, there is always one exception to the rule. And that’s true love.” 

The reason for the curse? Finding love? Well, clearly there was no way that could have anything whatsoever to do with Derek. Because Derek and love? That never ended well. It had nothing to do with the fact that Stiles really did not want to acknowledge even the idea of Derek and Stiles being connected by any kind of love. Because that was just not true. It couldn’t be. 

“Oh, fuck no,” Stiles gaped, trying to make sense of that outrageous lie. 

“See, with the spelled person’s true love,” Agnieszka continued as if he hadn’t said a single word, “the spell expresses itself in a completely different way. Because magic when cast right is all about balance, the spell couldn’t affect your other half. It would unbalance the relationship, or the potential relationship. So instead it shows you your true love’s true face.” 

Sure, Stiles was all about the balance and the enthusiastic consent and the inherent ickiness of love spells and the like. Because no one wanted to start off on an uneven foot with the person who was supposed to be their true love, or life partner, or whatever the non-magical terminology for that kind of relationship would be. It would be kind of gross to have the entire thing hinge on a spell affecting feelings - so he was actually glad that wasn’t the case here. 

But… Derek? True love?  _ Derek _ ? 

“The wolf,” Stiles could figure out that much. 

“Exactly,” Agnieszka sounded almost proud of him now. “When you unleashed your Siren song, your words, on Derek, it triggered that part of the spell. It made him show you his true self - and since I presume you’ve seen his human face as well as his normal shifted face, the spell pulled forth the true face you hadn’t yet seen. The wolf. Because the ability had always been there, but hadn’t been revealed to you yet. Or to Derek, it seems.” 

Stiles’ voice was his Siren song, at least for the day, and wasn’t that actually kind of awesome? Because he talked, that was his thing, he talked. And usually people got sick of it, got sick of him, but just for today, they would always want to hear more. They would want him to keep talking, to keep saying every stupid little thing that came to mind. 

Even though it was fake, Stiles just wanted to experience that fully. For once. 

But when he turned around, to find someone he might be able to talk to, maybe, he caught a glimpse of Derek. The wolf was still there, still human; he hardly seemed tempted to shift into his true form again (or whatever the spell wanted to call that). But he was looking at Stiles, flushed cheeks out of place on a drawn face. He just stood there, and stared. 

So Stiles turned back to talk to Agnieszka again. 

“Go back to the true love thing,” Stiles had to get back to that, because well… what the fuck? 

Look, he maybe was willing to agree that the spell could show someone’s true love - but not if this was what that meant. Because  _ this _ meant that the spell was severely flawed, making him think that Derek fucking Hale was supposed to be the love of his life. Just the idea of it was making him question the validity of the spell. Sure, the Siren thing had worked almost (or definitely) too well, but the true face of his true love thing? Hokum. Balderdash. Nonsense. 

“I figured it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise,” Agniesza looked back and forth between the two of them, trying to get their measure. “Either you wouldn’t have known each other yet, or you would have, and it would have been confirmation of where you were already heading.”

It couldn’t just be Stiles feeling like this, right? Derek didn’t actually and truly believe this bullshit, right? Derek was cynical, had major trust issues, liked evidence over ideas. There was no way that he would just take Agnieszka’s words as gospel when she could have made a stupid mistake somewhere along the way. Maybe Derek was his true enemy. That could be it. 

“But we weren’t heading anywhere,’’ Stiles tried not to sound resigned. “Well, I’m heading to NYU after graduation, scholarship and all that. But we’re not. Derek’s not…”

A few months from now, Stiles wasn’t even going to be on the same side of the country as Derek. He was going to be safe at NYU, away from any supernatural craziness - apart from the occasional midnight Googling session, of course. And Derek was still going to be back home on the West Coast, in his new house, living his life as the solitary Alpha. Maybe they’d see each other over the summer, but they weren’t going to stay in touch. 

Stiles hadn’t intended to stay in touch with Derek. He figured Derek wouldn’t even want that, seeing as he barely tolerated Stiles on the best of days. And there weren’t exactly a lot of those best days going around. Stiles had thought that Derek was glad to be rid of him. 

“Can we go?” Derek looked away. “Your Dad would murder me if I didn’t get you back in time for a late dinner after his shift. He’s not working tonight, is he?”

Oh, right, fuck. They still had an almost two-hour drive to go. Well, more like a little over ninety minutes if Stiles annoyed Derek into wanting to get rid of him and they didn’t have to stop for ice cream or milkshakes on the way. It hadn’t even taken them two hours on the way here, and that was with the extra ice cream time. Still, Stiles kind of wanted a proper milkshake, even though he was supposed to have dinner with his Dad when he got off shift. 

Wait, his Dad. Siren song. Nope. Just, a whole lot of nope. 

“I can’t talk to my Dad like this,” Stiles motioned frantically. “That’d just be creepy.” 

Surely there were things his Dad was dealing with that he hadn’t talked to Stiles about, that he’d be forced to reveal if Stiles just talked to him for long enough. And he didn’t want to trick his Dad in that way, didn’t want to ruin anything. And he didn’t even want to think about creepy things. 

“Your father will be fine,” Agnieszka made the effort to reassure him. “He might be more open to serious discussions, or to expressing his feelings, but there will be no creepy behavior.” 

So, what, he was just supposed to take that on faith? He was just supposed to believe that part of the spell had worked right, even though it had fucked up so badly on the true love part. Yeah, that did not sound like something that Stiles would be comfortable doing, especially not when it concerned his Dad. No, he’d rather piss off his Dad by not showing up in time. 

Did the spell work until midnight, or until he went to sleep? That was important to know. 

“Scott didn’t hit on you either,” Derek pointed out. “He’s your brother. It’ll be fine.” 

Well, fuck. Derek actually had somewhat of a point there. No matter how protective and weirdly nice Scott had gotten, it had never actually crossed the line into gross or creepy. Everything was just supportive commentary and the kind of brotherly protectiveness that Stiles had only ever seen in movies before. Though Stiles really didn’t appreciate being forced into the innocent little sister role here - because that was just ridiculous. It didn’t suit him at all. 

“Wow, you and reassuring,” Stiles laughed. “I never thought I’d see the day.” 

Judging by the look on Derek’s face, that’d had the opposite effect of the Siren song. 

Since when did it even matter that he hurt Derek’s feelings? 

* * *

After almost an hour and a half in the car, they were getting closer to Beacon Hills, and closer to Stiles’ special birthday dinner with his Dad. They also hadn’t said a single word to each other the whole time. Stiles had texted Scott and pretended to be half asleep, and Derek had just picked some kind of moody playlist and stared straight ahead. 

The awkwardness was palpable, but Stiles was determined not to be the one to break the stalemate. Derek was the one getting his non-existent panties in a bunch over this, when Stiles would have been perfectly happy to completely ignore that part of the spell for all eternity - because it was built on a tower of lies. They could have just pretended it never happened and moved on with their lives - their separate lives that were only getting more separate. 

But no, Derek had to get all weird about it. Damn him. 

So they just kept quiet, the both of them, even as they entered Beacon Hills and Derek drove straight to the Stilinski house, not even bothering to go to the Hale house first, even though Stiles’ baby was still parked there. He was going to need to pick her up somehow, because he had school in the morning, and he couldn’t get there without a ride. 

Maybe his Dad would take him. He really didn’t want to have to deal with Derek again in the morning. Or ever. Yeah, never sounded pretty good right about now. 

But he had a few more awkward minutes to spend with Derek first, waiting for them to reach the Stilinski house, knowing that his Dad’s car would already be in the driveway. Knowing that his Dad was probably going to have something to say about Stiles being dropped off by a very familiar black Camaro. His Dad was going to have a lot to say about Stiles spending time with Derek Hale on his birthday - all complimentary, probably. Because his Dad was weird like that, not thinking that Derek was an asshole, even though he’d arrested him a couple times. 

Mostly because of Stiles. And Scott. And werewolf stuff. 

“Happy birthday,” Derek told him as Stiles got out of the car. 

He barely gave Stiles time to close the door before he rushed off, probably to go brood in a corner somewhere. He was probably going to dramatically take most of his clothes off and work out for hours on end - that was basically the only way Derek knew to deal with feelings. 

This was not the time to have all the thoughts about Derek’s nearly naked workout routine - that was going to be his birthday treat to himself later, after his Dad had gone to bed and Stiles got to think long and hard about all of Derek. Except the awkward true love revelation part, because Stiles never wanted to think about those lies ever again. No sir. 

“I’m home,” Stiles was hesitant to use a lot of words. 

“You’re late, son,” John Stilinski called out from the kitchen (oh, no, terrible idea). “I’m glad Derek listened to my request to have you home at a decent hour, though. Did he not want to come in? Does he still want to pretend that you hate each other?” 

Sure, Stiles knew he wouldn’t be allowed to do the cooking on his birthday, but having his Dad in the kitchen always led to dishes that were basically a recipe for heart disease. Honestly, Stiles had been hoping that they’d just order something nice, maybe some curly fries for him and a healthy veggie burger with a large salad for his Dad. But of course the Sheriff had taken advantage of Stiles’ absence to cheat on his diet again. He wasn’t even surprised, really. 

So he walked into the kitchen, trying to get an estimate of what the damage would be, and how much healthy food he’d have to force upon his Dad to make up for this cheat day. 

And then he stopped. 

“ _ Pretend _ we hate each other?” Stiles honestly had no clue what was going on here. 

“Oh, Stiles,” his Dad sighed mockingly. “Did you really think you could hide from your old man?” 

That was never, ever, ever a good sign. His Dad might always have been far too perceptive, but usually Stiles had at least some idea of what his Dad was accusing him of hiding. This time he honestly had no idea. Sure, technically he was keeping the whole Siren song thing from his Dad, but that was not something that he could have known about yet, and not something that he was going to explain to him unless he figured it out. Which he couldn’t. 

And even if he did, Stiles just had to talk circles around the actual intention of the spell, and if he just waited until tomorrow, that was actually going to be quite easy to do. 

“Hide what?” Stiles was clearly missing some key bits of information here. 

“I got a really interesting call earlier,” John Stilinski’s shit-eating grin was like looking in a mirror for Stiles. “Agnieszka got in touch. She asked for forgiveness about the spell she’d cast on you, and for me not to worry if you acted a bit weird today, because you’d just found out your true love is Derek Hale. And something about Sirens, but mostly Derek.” 

Really? Fucking really? Did she have to get so overcome with guilt right away? Couldn’t she have waited at least a day for Stiles to work through this shit on his own? Sure, she probably knew his Dad a whole lot better than she did Stiles, but this was just rude. Wasn’t a son allowed to have any secrets from his Dad these days? Stiles had so few of those left with his Dad being in the loop about the whole werewolves and supernatural world things. 

“Damn it,” Stiles found himself cursing. “Did she tell everyone? Should I call Scott? Should I just have them print it in the newspaper? Post it on Facebook? Hire a skywriter?” 

Sure, the idea of that appealed somewhat, because it was going to allow him to claim Derek Hale as all fucking his. Even though he didn’t actually want Derek - he didn’t, right? - it was still a lovely idea to metaphorically write ‘Property of Stiles Stilinski’ all over him so that no one else got to have him. So that everyone knew that Derek had been claimed, and that for some weird ass reason Stiles had been discovered as the (un)lucky person who’d get to call Derek his. 

The possessive instinct didn’t make the most sense, but Stiles didn’t care. 

“Son, were you actually surprised?” John Stilinski wasn’t, apparently. “You’ve been pulling Derek’s pigtails since you met him again when he came back to town. Sure, I’ve never been too happy with it, because you were  _ thirteen _ back then, but I wasn’t going to fault you that crush.” 

Pulling pigtails? Stiles had never seen his annoying Derek as anything like the pulling of Derek’s metaphorical pigtails, because it was nothing like that. It was just that Derek was a snob and an asshole who thought he was so much better than Stiles, who thought he’d just get to ignore Stiles and not want to be part of his pack even though Stiles had saved his life so many times now and come back for him every single time, and… Oh,  _ fuck _ . 

“What?” Stiles knew that his voice was cracking all over the place. 

“Oh, son,” John Stilinski showed some mock pity. “You really didn’t know?” 

Oh no. Oh no. Oh  _ hell _ no. 

Now Stiles was going to have to run every interaction he’d ever had with Derek since he got back to town almost five years ago through this new ‘pulling pigtails’ filter. And he had just figured out that he was going to find an overwhelming amount of evidence in favor of his Dad’s theory, and very little in favor of his own ‘hating Derek’ theory. 

Because he didn’t actually hate Derek. Not at all. 

“Well, that’s embarrassing,” Stiles threw himself into a chair and almost tipped it over. 

Was it too late to graduate early and just leave for New York now? That way he never had to deal with any of the aftermath of the craziness of today, and he never had to face Derek ever again, just to have Derek dismiss him because he didn’t actually  _ want _ to be stuck with Stiles for the rest of his life, even though Agnieszka’s spell had told him he would be. 

“Derek’s the one who should be embarrassed, if you ask me,” his Dad just made it worse. 

“Why?” Stiles asked from his position at the table, head against the wood. “He’s not the one who’s apparently been making an idiot out of himself for five years, running after someone who couldn’t be less interested. He’s not the one who’s been needlessly cruel just to get someone’s attention, and oh my God is this why Scott and Derek hate each other?” 

Now that Stiles had been forced to fit the pulling pigtails narrative into sharper focus, it suddenly brought a whole bunch of other things to light as well. Like the Scott and Derek hatred - because that was clearly actual hatred, and not more pigtail pulling. 

“Does Scott hate Derek because I have a crush?” Stiles rephrased the question. 

“I think you don’t need me to answer the question for you,” John Stilinski said in response. 

So clearly the answer to his question was a wholehearted yes, and Stiles was going to have to acknowledge that. He was going to have to fix it - even though he doubted that Scott and Derek would have liked each other if Stiles’ stupid crush hadn’t been involved. But still, he was going to have to say something about it. And since he was never talking to Derek ever again...

“I need to call Scott,” Stiles sat up straight again, groping for his phone. 

“Not Derek?” His Dad was just not going to let this go. “He’s known this whole time and he’s gone along with it. Never inappropriately, of course. But he’s certainly indulged you.” 

Why would Stiles want to talk to Derek? He really didn’t want to get some patronizing speech about how it had been funny at first, but it was starting to get creepy or weird. He didn’t want Derek to tell him all about the ways in which Derek had never actually been interested, just humoring him because it would have been too embarrassing for Stiles if he’d been called out on it. Because he hadn’t even known about his stupid feelings. 

Derek knew about his stupid feelings before Stiles did. That was truly the pinnacle of embarrassment in a story that was already full of embarrassing things. 

“That’s even more embarrassing,” Stiles found himself flailing again. “He’s been humoring my stupid behavior for five years. He’s probably just been laughing at my stupid teenage crush the whole time. I can’t believe he didn’t just set me straight and kicked me out.” 

Actually, why hadn’t Derek just kicked him out? Why had he returned the banter? Stiles had just been an annoying little kid and Derek had been a high school graduate who’d been forced to come back home with his sister - Laura had wanted them both back in California, seeing as Derek had been accepted to a bunch of West Coast schools anyway. 

How Stiles had known that? He’d snooped. He’d overheard things while shamelessly eavesdropping on whatever Derek was doing at inopportune times. Because he was a creepy little shit with a crush on a hot older werewolf. 

He was such a fucking cliche - it was pathetic. 

“There’s nothing straight about it,” his Dad was suddenly awesome again. 

“Oh God, you’re actually the worst,” Stiles told him, because it wasn’t like he could tell his Dad he was awesome - the Stilinski men just didn’t do stuff like that. “You are so incredibly embarrassing. Does Melissa know you say stuff like this to your son?”

Payback. It was definitely time for some payback right about now. 

And if his Dad was allowed to mock him about his stupid crush on Derek, Stiles was definitely going to play the Melissa card with his Dad in return. Because he wanted to be Scott’s actual brother at some point, and well… It was Melissa. She was the only person worthy of potentially being a part of the Stilinski family. Stiles was not going to accept any substitutes. 

“She knows,” John Stilinski was far too smooth about that, damn him. 

There was a lot more going on in Beacon Hills than Stiles knew about, apparently. So far it was mostly good, because Stiles had always been aware of the seedy underbelly (mostly the supernatural kind). It was typical that he wasn’t aware of the good things that happened here. 

“So, Derek?” Stiles finally caved. 

“You’ll have to ask him,” John Stilinski was suddenly a lot more secretive. “Please don’t do the teen movie misunderstanding thing. It’s been exhausting to watch already. Just talk to him.” 

The embarrassment was at an all-time high now, because here was his Dad talking to him about proper communication with the supposed love of his life, mentioning teen movie plots as if he’d actually seen any kind of romantic movie in the past decade. Heck, Stiles couldn’t remember his Dad watching anything that had been made in this century - mostly old westerns with gunfire and lawmen standing up for what was right. Wasn’t that just typical? 

So yes, he would have noticed if his Dad knew about rom coms. 

“What would you know about teen movies?” Stiles just had to ask. 

“I haven’t always been an old man,” Stilinski senior was nearly as snarky as his son. “All I know is that you’ll never get anywhere if you don’t talk to him.” 

Most of his rambling had been inherited from his mother, but sometimes Stiles was forcibly reminded that he was absolutely his father’s son. Mostly when they used the same gestures to express feelings, or had a similar cadence to their voice, but right now it was because his Dad was a snarky asshole who knew exactly how to trick Stiles into doing the right thing. 

Surely that description had been used for Stiles a few times as well. 

“But aren’t you upset, or disappointed?” Stiles was pretty sure there was something wrong. 

“I’ve had five years to prepare for this moment,” John Stilinski was almost smirking now. “I wasn’t expecting it to happen on your eighteenth birthday, but I’m not completely surprised. Am I over the moon about you finding the love of your life like this? Not really. But glass houses and all that. I wasn’t much different when I met your mother.” 

Now that last bit? Absolutely the Siren song finally showing its hand. Because they didn’t talk about her, not unless they absolutely had to. And they never really did. 

But the bit before that? That was weirdly real. Sure, maybe the spell had loosened his Dad’s tongue a little, but nothing he said was too out of character for him. So he did genuinely believe that this was always going to happen, once Stiles figured it out and managed to pull his head out of his ass somehow. So he’d assumed that Stiles was going to eventually own up to his feelings and discuss them with Derek - and now he was actively encouraging it. 

“Are you that ready for me to get rejected?” Stiles really did not get that part of it. 

“He’s just as bad as you are,” his Dad was not mincing his words now. “Sure, you used to annoy the shit out of him. He thought he was all that at eighteen and then there was this asshole brat following him around and judging him all the time and trying desperately to get his attention. But I think you both grew out of the worst of that. It’s obvious, Stiles. Just look at him for once.” 

Stiles not looking at Derek was not the problem here. It was the least of it, really, because even when Derek annoyed the shit out of him, Stiles still had to look at him. He had to observe every quirk of his lips - reluctantly amused even when Stiles was being a shit - and every frown and roll of the eyes. Because that meant that he was getting to Derek, and if he’d actually managed to get to Derek, that meant that he’d won that battle. And perhaps even the war, eventually. 

Because he’d thought of their interactions as being a fight that he could win. 

“I have been looking,” Stiles argued, because he had. 

“Not that kind of looking,” his Dad was actually the Devil. 

Of course his Dad was going to be embarrassing about this. This was the man who was judging his clothing when he found him at a gay club at age sixteen - because Stiles had always been the guy who made an effort when he wanted someone to be interested. Of course there had been something else going on that time, with Stiles in one of his comfiest, most worn down flannel and the jeans with the threadbare knees. 

Supernatural business. Naturally. His Dad had pretended not to have known that back then. 

“My car’s still at Derek’s,” Stiles reluctantly admitted. 

“You’re not going tonight,” the Sheriff steamrolled over that objection. “We’re having quality time now. Father-son time. And tomorrow, once that spell’s worn off, you’re going back to school. I’ll drop you at the Hale House to pick up your car. After school, you can go see the love of your life - if he hasn’t fled the country by then. Isn’t his sister still in South-America?” 

If Stiles found the Hale house abandoned, he was going to drive himself back to Agnieszka and let her have it. And then make her do a locator spell on the errant werewolf. 

* * *

School had been much less embarrassing this time, though people had looked at him funny. 

Still, way less groping, and no threesome offers, and no Jackson putting his hands on places Stiles really didn’t want his hands… So, that was progress. At this point he’d even welcomed Isaac being his usual asshole self and Boyd being almost subtle about making fun of him. He’d welcomed the return of Scott’s distracted self (Kira was his main focus again, of course) and celebrated the triumphant return of Bilinski in Economics class. 

He was on such a high that he’d almost forgotten about the not so fun thing that was still waiting for him: the inevitable rejection from Derek. Sure, his Dad might have had some seriously whack ideas about Derek being interested in pursuing this, but he didn’t know Derek as well as Stiles did. He might have known Stiles better than Stiles did, though. 

So Stiles had dragged himself to the Preserve (or let his baby drag him there, anyway), and even managed to get out of the car without embarrassing himself too much. He’d only considered turning around and moving to Greenland about fourteen times so far. Pretty good. 

“If you locked the door, I swear,” Stiles tripped up the steps to the front door. 

The porch was empty, and Stiles didn’t see any evidence of Derek’s presence at the house - though the Camaro was of course still in the driveway. Not that it couldn’t mean that Derek had taken off on foot (he totally would, that drama queen), but Stiles was pretty sure that Derek hadn’t actually skipped town to avoid him. He just wanted to make it look like that for long enough to give Stiles a chance to lose interest. 

Honestly, did Derek know him at all? Losing interest was not something Stiles did. 

Of course the door was locked, because Derek was as dramatic as any character from whatever teen drama his Dad had been talking about the night before. Of course Derek had to physically lock him out, pretending that was actually going to make a difference. 

Stiles had learned to pick locks at age nine - his mom had taught him. 

“Seriously, Derek?” Stiles was still not amused. “Are you scared of me now?” 

It was a good thing the weather was decent, because Stiles was probably going to be here a while. Or at least until Derek was done having a temper tantrum. Sure, Stiles could have used his excellent lockpicking skills, but he was pretty sure that would not have been a great start to the most awkward relationship discussion in the history of the world. 

Stiles, dramatic? Of course not. 

“I’m going to wait here until you grow the werewolf balls to come talk to me,” Stiles warned, sitting down on the porch. “And I’m going to keep talking the whole time, because now that the weird spell is over, I don’t have to worry about people getting all up on this. I can just keep talking about every little thing that pops into my head. And you know how weird I can get.” 

He missed the porch swing, but that was probably why Derek had pointedly dismantled it - to make sure Stiles couldn’t actually get too comfortable here. Because of course Derek had known that he would come, and that he would not be dissuaded by a locked door and a lack of any kind of response. Because Derek knew him almost as well as Stiles knew Derek. 

“My Dad gave his blessing, you know,” Stiles was not going to make this easy for Derek. 

That statement was immediately followed by a stumbling sound from inside. As the king of stumbling and tripping and falling, Stiles recognized it immediately as the sound of someone stumbling down a few stairs before catching himself. Derek apparently didn’t actually reach the bottom - he managed to get back on his feet with the grace of a… wolf. 

Still, Stiles couldn’t help but be amused at the idea of someone so graceful getting clumsy. 

“Hope you’re okay, Der-Bear,” Stiles was trying to stifle some giggles. “Usually I’m the less than graceful one, but I don’t mind the occasional role reversal. I’ll learn to growl in seven different languages if that’s a thing you’d be interested in.” 

Heck, with all the magical shenanigans in Beacon Hills he was stunned that they’d never actually had a body-swapping incident. Clearly he’d never yelled at Derek enough about them misunderstanding each other - because that was primo Freaky Friday material. 

Of course any body-swapping shenanigans would involve Stiles and Derek. That just made for the more interesting story. Just the idea of Derek dealing with being human was hilarious. Plus, Stiles would make a damn awesome werewolf, at least for a while. He didn’t actually want to be the permanent kind of wolf - he liked rocking the badass human thing. 

“Where was I?” Stiles trailed off briefly, hoping Derek was once again in a precarious position as he dropped another bomb. “Oh, right, my Dad. So Agnieszka called him up before we even got back to Beacon Hills and told him absolutely everything. And surprisingly, there is no one here to haul your ass to the station. Because he doesn’t actually hate you. He might actually approve of you. Apparently he’s been expecting this for years now.” 

Yep, that definitely caused another accident in there. The part of Stiles that really fucking enjoyed that sort of shit (look, everybody liked a little schadenfreude every once in a while) was absolutely living for this. The part of Stiles that recently discovered he didn’t actually like Derek getting hurt was a bit more upset at these developments. 

“Seriously, I know you heal really fast but this is getting ridiculous,” Stiles may or may not have been pouting a little. “Can you just let me in so I can watch you stumble in person?” 

He’d settled for somewhat of a middle road. A roundabout confession of concern without actually having to say the words, and a snarky comment about being perfectly fine with Derek’s idiocy. Actually, actively encouraging more idiocy. That was very much his speed. 

He wasn’t expecting it to work, though. So he was gaping like an idiot when the door actually opened, revealing a perfectly whole Derek (not even a bruise on him, damn him). He had his arms crossed over his chest (hello biceps!) and the murder brows were out in full force. 

“No,” Derek just stood there. 

“You opened the door to tell me no?” Stiles really should not have been surprised at that. “How unexpected of you. Now, would you like to tell me ‘no’ some more? We can do that anywhere you’d like. Inside, outside, on the bed, on the floor, on the towel by the door?” 

Derek was not going to be allowed to judge Stiles about being an asshole ever again, because this was the kind of petty that Stiles could only dream of - the kind of petty that he kind of aspired to when it came to Derek. He only wished he could be that intimidating, and he was only half joking about that, because he knew that Derek had pretty much already caved. Because he was standing here still, listening to Stiles, instead of pretending not to be at home. 

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Derek huffed as he stepped aside. 

“In the cub, in the car, up against the minibar,” Stiles continued, undeterred. “Do you have a minibar? I feel like you could be the kind of pretentious douche who has a minibar when you get snacky late at night. For your protein shakes. Or the remnants of the deer you killed.” 

Antagonizing Derek was just so very easy, and also he was kind of really fucking nervous and his mouth had always had a mind of its own. And yes, he was very aware that did not make sense biologically, but he was going to roll with the metaphor anyway, because it sounded fucking awesome. And Stiles had always liked a fun metaphor. 

“Bambi is fine, Stiles,” Derek had to be a shit about that too. 

“But his mommy is not,” Stiles was just getting on the same level, honestly. 

Suddenly he wondered if Derek had seen Bambi as a kid and had been terrified of the hunters - even though technically wolves hunted deer as well. Wow, so not the point. 

“What do you want?” Derek was once again caving far too quickly. 

“So many things,” Stiles was quickly going right back to old patterns. “World peace, of course. An actual diner milkshake, not your tacky DQ replacement. To beat Lydia for the valedictorian spot. To learn how to be as much of an asshole as the average New Yorker. To figure out how to keep Scott from thinking with his dick all the time - a solid fifty-fifty would be enough.” 

_ Jesus Christ _ , said Derek’s eyebrows. 

Stiles was getting to be pretty much fluent in eyebrow, though he couldn’t speak it as well as Derek - some people actually had to use their words. All of them, all the time. 

“Why are you here?” Derek was not going to make like Elsa and let it go. 

“To talk to you, dumbass,” Stiles said ever so lovingly. “Can I come in?” 

Derek just made a rather aggressive motion for him to come in. Stiles figured he wasn’t going to get murdered for daring to talk to Derek, so he went inside and found the house much the same as it had been the previous day, except with even more books piled upon all the flat surfaces in sight. Barring the floor, of course. Still, Derek had been busy. 

“No sudden urge to get all wolfy, by the way?” Stiles had to ask. 

“Not any more than usual,” Derek actually gave him a straight answer for once. “Now, talk.” 

Did Stiles even want to know exactly what Derek had been doing? Why he needed all of these books all of a sudden? What kind of stupid thing he just had to research? No, Stiles didn’t particularly want to know all about it, but he should find out anyway, because there was no way that it was a good thing. Stiles had never seen Derek this worried about something. Because even though he hadn’t even said a word, the state of the house made it very clear that Derek was seriously worried. And knowing Derek, it was probably something about Stiles. 

“That’s the first time you’ve wanted me to talk,” Stiles just had to crack that joke too. 

He was absolutely infuriating Derek on purpose, because that was the only way to get anywhere with him when he was like this. Stiles had figured that out through trial and error, and he’d gotten quite good at saying harmlessly infuriating things that would piss Derek off without causing any actual damage. Because that would be going too far. 

“Can you take this seriously for once?” Derek had finally cracked. “I’ve been up most of the night trying to figure out how to fix it, and you’re cracking jokes.” 

So the books were meant to give Derek information about fixing something - something related to the spell and the true love thing, obviously. Because Derek didn’t like not having a choice about things, and he didn’t like Stiles not having a choice. Because he’d undoubtedly already convinced himself that it was a terrible idea and that Stiles wouldn’t want any of it because he hated Derek. Even though he really, really didn’t. 

But that was still how Derek’s brain worked - denial. 

“Fix it?” Stiles just really did not like the sound of that. 

“Look, you may have had that stupid crush once upon a time,” Derek said it so pointedly, making sure that Stiles knew he’d been aware of all that. “But that doesn’t mean you want me to be the love of your life. So, clearly you’d want to fix it.” 

Well, Stiles had a whole bunch of jokes ready about shit people said about assuming, because oh boy had Derek leapt right past actually talking to Stiles and straight into jumping into conclusions territory. And in this case, the assumption meant that Derek had totally made an ass out of himself. Stiles wasn’t going to let himself be made an ass of as well. 

“Cool, at least we skipped the ‘curse is flawed’ part,” Stiles nodded. “And we’ve gone straight to the next batch of bullshit. What the fuck are you doing, Der-Bear?” 

If Stiles’d had to put money on something, he would have put it on Derek coming up with some kind of obscure reason why Agnieszka’s spell had gotten the true love thing wrong. About how Stiles had been right when he’d been a rude asshole about Derek just wanting to feel close to his family again, and the siren song of Stiles’ words working on him that way. Stiles had been pretty sure that Derek was going to claim that Stiles hadn’t met his true love yet and the spell had been in vain. Because it sure as hell was not Derek that Stiles was looking for. 

He would have been wrong about that, but Stiles had been so sure he would have tried. 

“I told you, fixing it,” Derek enunciated even more clearly. “Are you having trouble hearing?” 

Great, back to their normal type of banter - at least something still made sense. Even after his entire world had been flipped, turned upside down like it was the surprisingly catchy theme song to a TV show from the early 90’s… Even after all that Derek was still being an asshole and insulting him. Because that was just what they did. 

“Why would we need to fix it?” Stiles was going to keep asking annoying questions. 

“Because you don’t want it,” Derek answered almost automatically. 

That was one hell of an assumption. Sure, if Derek had said it a few days ago Stiles probably would have agreed with him, but he’d pulled his head out of his ass with his Dad’s help, and he wasn’t going to put it back up there just so they could stick to the status quo.

No, Stiles refused to have that song stuck in his head. He pointedly refused. 

“So why did I sit through my Dad’s speech about pulling pigtails, then?” Stiles was not going to let this go. “He seemed very convinced that I’ve been trying to get you to notice me for five years now, and let me tell you: he was pretty damn convincing. Like, change my entire worldview and finally climb out of that river in Egypt, convincing.” 

At first, Derek actually seemed lost for words at that - clearly he’d never expected Stiles to even consider the idea. That and he’d obviously never expected the Sheriff to be on Derek’s side in all of this. Or, well, on their side - on the pro Stiles and Derek side. On the Sterek side. 

Could they make that name a thing? Derek would blow a gasket if someone actually used it and Stiles was not going to stop winding him up just because he realized he had the feels. 

“That’s not the same as true love,” Derek had somehow already found another argument. 

“I’m not saying it is,” Stiles shrugged. “I’m not even saying we need to get married right now and adopt half a dozen babies and live happily ever after. Because frankly, I’m eighteen years old and I only just figured out that I’m halfway in love with you last night.” 

Shit, the whole true love thing was a lot to process. Stiles wasn’t even done processing it himself, but he knew that if they were actually going to give it a chance, he had to talk to Derek about it soon. He didn’t need to give Derek any time to come up with a million more reasons of exactly why it was never going to work. Derek had probably come up with a couple hundred off the cuff, and every day Stiles didn’t say something would add hundreds more. 

But he was here, and he was talking to Derek - and leaving him flabbergasted. 

“In love with me?” Derek repeated, dumbly. 

“ _ Halfway _ in love with you,” Stiles wouldn’t stand for being misquoted. 

Because it had only been a day or so since he’d realized. All the way in love was a big step, especially since he had pretty much no clue of how Derek felt about the situation. Sure, his Dad had some things to say about that, but Stiles preferred primary sources. 

“That’s not that much of a difference,” Derek was back to being patronizing. 

“I’d be happy to argue semantics with you forever,” Stiles decided to just let his motormouth have its way. “You’re a pretentious asshole who speaks far too many languages and is only smug about that when I’m around, and it drives me up the fucking wall.” 

Look, there were plenty of compliments that he could have used, but there was no way that Derek was going to accept any of that. So Stiles figured that he might as well be open and honest, even though it didn’t sound nearly as pretty as the compliments that were just waiting to spill out. He felt like that old, stupid meme, denying that he gave a damn about Derek with hundreds of pictures of Derek’s smile spilling out of his clothes.

He could totally keep a lid on it, though, at least for a little while longer. 

“In the best way,” Stiles had to add, before Derek came up with an annoyed response. “It makes me want to shut you up with my mouth. All sexy and ‘make me’ style.” 

Was Derek actually blushing now? Had Stiles actually made him blush like the dork he none too secretly was on the inside? Now that was something that gave him fucking butterflies - mutant butterflies swarming all over his stomach and making him smile like a loon. 

“You can’t be serious,” Derek finally managed to say.

“I’m very serious,” Stiles nodded, still smiling. “And I’m pushing down so many Sirius Black jokes right about now, you don’t even know. But I’m trying to not make light of this.” 

Sure, he was eventually going to make a fool of himself again by cracking a joke at the wrong time, but he was trying. Because if he kept joking and fooling around and pretending that this wasn’t the most terrifyingly awesome thing that had ever happened to him, Derek was never going to believe that he’d actually meant everything he was saying. Not that Derek didn’t have a sense of humor, because he really fucking did, but Stiles was on his best behavior. 

Or whatever passed for best behavior with him. 

“Stiles, I don’t know,” Derek was still scrambling for some kind of control. 

“I don’t either,” Stiles said in return, and almost kicked himself for it. “I mean, I know where I’d like to go from here, but you have a say too. And I don’t know exactly where to go from here, but I know I’d like to try. With you. Long distance, or just talking more and maybe a date or just being better at being friends. Whatever you want. Whenever you’re ready.” 

Ryan Gosling, eat your fucking heart out. Stiles had just been super sincere and romantic and clearly the Notebook or some other romantic movie had nothing on this. Sure, most of those stories didn’t have werewolves and sirens and magical spells, but Stiles thought this story ( _ their  _ story) deserved a moment where it was just a boy standing in front of another boy, asking him to at least consider it. Whatever  _ it _ may be. Anything. 

“Jesus Christ,” Derek managed to say. 

Wow, he was really in tune with the murder brows, because they were definitely saying the exact same thing. Except it was less angry and more confused this time, like Derek genuinely didn’t know what was happening to him and that worried him. Even though he usually had some kind of back-up plan up his sleeve - because Derek was a nerd and a tactician. 

Oh God, Derek had probably played D&D at some point, right? So hot. 

“Why aren’t you talking more?” Derek let his frustration get the best of him. “Shouldn’t you be listing a million reasons why we’d be great together? Shouldn’t you be talking about the spell being some kind of proof of concept, so we already know it’ll work?” 

Derek was not allowed to say the words ‘proof of concept’ while looking all sincere and haunting because Stiles had a lot of thoughts about that phrase that he was not going to get into at this time because clearly it was better to get into his own romance story instead of continuing to be really fucking bitter about how the fictional story had turned out. So… 

“Look,” Stiles was trying so hard to find the exact right words that would make Derek believe what he was saying. “There are no guarantees, even with true love. I’m just saying that I want to find out exactly why the magical powers of the universe think we’re soulmates. I think they’d have some pretty good reasons for that, and I want to find out all about those. If we decide the reasons are dumb and wrong, that’s good too. But at least we’ll know. We’ll have tried.” 

Was he super proud of himself for being so ridiculously mature about the situation? Absolutely. Was it even better because Derek was absolutely losing his shit, still? Totally. It was fun feeling a bit superior for once, even though that probably wasn’t the most healthy way to approach this. 

Yeah, they probably still had a very long way to go if they were going to do this. But maybe, just maybe, this was a good place to start: resolving the misunderstanding that Stiles hated Derek, being open about the potential in their relationship and finding a way to proceed from here that allowed them to meet somewhere in the middle. 

“I still have an apartment in New York,” Derek said, completely out of nowhere. 

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles was the one lost for words now. 

That sounded a lot like a declaration of something - maybe not of love, but definitely a declaration of intent that Stiles really had not been ready for. He was expecting a no - because Derek always did love saying no to him - or maybe even a reluctant yes to another visit or some time spent hanging out together without a supernatural crisis involved. Stiles had not been expecting anything like this, like Derek would be wherever he was. That was a big step, and one that was not like Derek at all - it was more like Stiles, all impulsive and even excited. 

Derek did not do impulsive very well. Even his excitement was rather subdued. 

“I’m not promising anything,” Derek was quick to continue. “I’m not saying I’m moving across the country for you. That would be ridiculous. But I could visit, maybe.” 

Now that sounded much more like Derek - for a second there Stiles had been worried about another flare up of the Siren thing, because Derek never went along with his plans. Not without arguing viciously and mentioning about ten things that they could and should have done instead - because Derek was still convinced his plans were better. He was wrong. 

“That sounds like a very healthy decision,” Stiles tried to be the mature adult again. 

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek rolled his eyes at him. 

Right, so maybe he couldn’t actually pull off the mature adult role (yet?). But it wasn’t like Derek was doing any better at it, so maybe it was okay. Maybe they were both allowed to have no idea what they were doing - maybe that was why the universe had thought they would make a great match. Because they’d both gotten good at pretending to have their shit together, because they both knew how to push aside personal drama for the greater good. Because they’d always save each other even though it was usually stupid and dangerous. 

And okay, maybe the universe had some pretty good reasons. Maybe. 

“Make me?” Stiles quickly turned the automatic response into a question. 

“No,” Derek told him. 

Derek was smiling as he said it, though, so Stiles figured he hadn’t actually fucked anything up there. Derek just liked saying no to him, and Stiles kind of liked it too - in this context at least. Or was that weird? Were they supposed to agree about stuff and say yes to whatever the other person wanted all of the time? Was the soulmates thing that fucked up? 

Yeah, there was so much work to be done. So much. So very much. 

“Rude,” Stiles responded, but he wasn’t offended. 

He hadn’t been expecting anything anyway. They weren’t there yet. He wasn’t sure if they’d ever be and if so, when… But he was ready and willing to try. And it seemed Derek was as well. 

* * *

Stiles’ twenty-first birthday was weird as fuck. 

Sure, everything had started out completely normal. Classes had been their usual level of boring or interesting (look, Stiles liked his choice of major, but that didn’t mean that all of his classes were equally interesting to attend). His classmates hadn’t been weird to him, although they’d joked a bit about the lack of Stiles’ usual rambling. 

They didn’t know why he was usually a bit more quiet on his birthday - just in case. 

The weirdness started at lunch. He hadn’t heard from most of his friends back on the West Coast yet, and while that wasn’t usually a problem, this was a special day. Sure, they were three hours behind, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t at least text him to wish him a happy birthday. Just because they weren’t spending it together, didn’t mean that they had to ignore him the whole day. Or forget about him and this very special birthday entirely. 

But it was barely the afternoon, so maybe they just needed time. Or so Stiles texted to his boyfriend. He was usually around to commiserate, even just by text. 

Long-distance sucked, okay? It was okay at first, when they were taking things slow and trying not to rush into the whole happily ever after thing, but after over six months of working their way up to dating and then over two years of dating it was starting to really fucking suck not to have his boyfriend around all the time. Holidays and visits just didn’t cut it anymore. 

“Happy birthday,” Derek picked up almost immediately. 

“See, you’re acknowledging my birthday,” Stiles huffed, almost toppling the cup of coffee he was barely clinging to. “Everyone else is being weirdly quiet. Is this another spell? I know we checked with Agnieszka, but I feel like this might be another spell.” 

No, he wasn’t actually worried about there being another spell. Agnieszka had become somewhat of a friend and mentor, and she was not going to lie to them about casting another spell on him for his birthday. Her original spell had worked out well, but that did not mean that another attempt at making him happy wouldn’t go completely off the rails. And besides, he was pretty happy these days - with the long-distance exception, of course. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek sounded like he was laughing at him. 

“You love that about me,” Stiles was completely certain of that. 

Even though the long-distance sucked - in the worst way - he didn’t really have any doubts about Derek. They were solid, stupidly solid. Solid as a rock. Solid as… Well, Stiles could have come up with a million other ways to describe it because he had all this time that he didn’t have to spend worrying about his gorgeous boyfriend even looking at someone else. That and a lot of time he didn’t get to spend with his boyfriend because they currently lived on opposite sides of the country. But he preferred to look on the bright side of things. 

And fucking hell, he was going to be whistling that for days. 

“I’d love you more if you did me a favor,” Derek had never stopped being a shit. 

“On my birthday?” Stiles was still pretty good at pretending to be offended. “I feel like I’m supposed to be showered with gifts today. Maybe get a little legally drunk later…” 

He wouldn’t. Because it was no fun going out and partying with his best friends being in California. Sure, he was probably going to go out at some point and enjoy life without a fake ID, but right now he wasn’t really feeling it. Because he had that weird feeling and Derek was not here and he was talking about some stupid favor.

Sure, Stiles was going to do it. But he deserved the right to whine about it first. 

“It’s to pick up your gift,” Derek managed to get his attention. 

“You should have said that right away,” Stiles was obviously gloating. “But fine, I guess I can manage a small favor if it’s related to my undoubtedly epic birthday gift.” 

Derek had better live up to Stiles’ expectations when it comes to the most epic of all birthday gifts. Because he was only going to turn twenty-one once, and his boyfriend was going to have to acknowledge that it was kind of a monumental birthday. Even though they weren’t technically spending it together, because Derek wasn’t visiting until next weekend. 

Far too many days away. Too many lonely nights, mostly. 

“I’ll send you the address for the pick-up,” Derek sighed. 

“I’ll go after my class,” Stiles nodded, even though he knew Derek couldn’t see it. “Are you still coming over next weekend to celebrate properly? And by properly I mean naked.” 

He knew that made him sound like a horny dipshit, but he just wanted to get skin to skin with Derek. He wanted to feel every inch of that warmth against him. He wanted to press his head over Derek’s heart, or to trace the contours of his tattoos with his tongue, or to just cuddle up with him for hours and hours and hours. Stiles didn’t want to leave his bed for days and days and days, staying within touching distance the whole time. 

And of course, he wanted them to have a ton of sex. It was always better when he wasn’t alone in his bed, when he got to share it with Derek. When he got to touch and be touched. 

“You always mean naked,” Derek sounds slightly annoyed, which is just rude. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Stiles was very much not sorry. “Were you not interested in seeing my hot little body again and leaving marks of ownership? All the hickeys have faded, Der-Bear.” 

The possessiveness of werewolves was a delight, and something he tried to trigger all the damn time. Because it resulted in hickeys and Derek’s hands all over him, Derek’s nose in the crook of his neck - making sure that Stiles smelled of no one but him. 

“You’re a terror,” Derek sounded much more fond now. 

“Love you too,” Stiles grinned. “Gotta go. Class. Will call you once I’ve picked up that gift.” 

Class was boring after that, especially because he now had a mystery to focus on - he had to figure out what the present was. The address Derek had texted was an address in Brooklyn, in Bed-Stuy. It was a regular brownstone, no businesses that Stiles could find out about, and there were no obvious hints that might help him figure out what the present might be. Because Stiles loved a good mystery, and he wasn’t going to rest until he figured it out. 

The classmates sitting closest to Stiles might have been annoyed at the way he bounced up and down in his seat, fiddling with his phone instead of just paying attention to the lecture. But they knew the kind of person he was, and some of them even knew it was his birthday. He’d explained to Lily that his boyfriend had a surprise for him, and Steph had smacked at his pen with her notebook multiple times. Freddie just rolled his eyes at the whole thing. 

They said goodbye to him as Stiles made his way downtown (walking fast… damn it) and then East, taking the J because it was easiest. The M was being annoying again, and once again Stiles cursed the MTA - it made him feel like an actual New Yorker. 

When he stopped in front of the address, Stiles stared at the screen of his phone again, trying to memorize the code he had to use to gain entrance. For some reason he didn’t have to wait for someone to come down - he could just be buzzed in, like whoever was waiting for him wasn’t worried about crazy New York assassins or something. 

“Hello?” Stiles called out, closing the door behind him. 

The brownstone was lovely - exactly the kind of place that Stiles would have loved to live, even though the dorms were easier and closer to his classes. It just had character, it had that distinct Brooklyn vibe that he’d come to enjoy. The light filtered in from the windows, and Stiles roamed the hallway, trying to figure out why there were no apartment numbers. Not that Derek had given him a number, just the address. Because apparently the whole brownstone belonged to one person, instead of being split into like, half a dozen or more apartments. 

Stiles hadn’t gotten a response to his earlier question, so he decided to try again. 

“Hello, it’s Stiles,” he shouted a bit too loud. “Derek sent me. Derek Hale? Grumpy dude, serious brows. Unfairly gorgeous, stubborn, the love of my life. Like, true love shit.” 

There was a chuckle then, and Stiles walked back in the direction of the sound, suddenly finding that the door to what he presumed was a living room was no longer shut. So he reached for the handle, to try and push it open a bit more, trying to find out who was laughing at me. 

“Happy birthday, Stiles,” Derek appeared from the living room. 

There was no way that this was actually happening. There was no way that his boyfriend was actually here right now, in this random Brooklyn apartment, grinning at him with his arms crossed over his chest. He was clearly too proud of his plan, just waiting for Stiles to absolutely lose his shit at the sight of him. Not that he was all too far off about that. 

Because it had been ages. It had been far too long. 

“You asshole,” Stiles gaped at him. “You fucking asshole. What are you doing here?” 

Because Derek’s presence was absolutely a solid present, but it still didn’t make sense for him to suddenly show up in a random Brooklyn apartment. Because he knew where Stiles was going to be, and he could have just shown up to surprise him in any of those locations. Stiles would have loved to have shown Derek off in front of his classmates and friends - some of them had caught a glimpse of him by now, but that still wasn’t enough. 

Stiles kind of wanted that dramatic reunion in public. Because he was a messy bitch who lived for drama, and Derek knew that about him by now. 

“I live here,” Derek was so very smug about it. 

“You live here?” Stiles just repeated it, basically struck dumb by those words. 

Derek lived in Beacon Hills. Derek had the restored Hale House, the house that he’d spent so much time on - the last piece of his family that he’d made his own. Sure, he had the apartment in New York that Laura had bought when they’d escaped all those years ago, but he only used that to visit. And even then he hardly used it, choosing to rub his stank all over Stiles’ dorm room in some kind of feral courting ritual. That idiot. 

Stiles loved him so fucking much. 

“I bought this place,” Derek was gloating, actually gloating. “I sold the apartment, because we didn’t really use it anyway. And I wanted something more permanent. I have the money.” 

Yeah, Derek was kind of stupidly rich. There was a lot of life insurance money gathering interest - the worst way to be rich, but Derek had finally figured out that his family would have wanted him to use it. He knew that his family would have wanted him to be happy. 

But he’d never used it like this, not for anything this big. For a house in Brooklyn. 

“Permanent?” Stiles was just trying to catch up. 

“I’m moving to New York,” Derek grinned. “Permanently.” 

Was this really happening? Was Derek actually telling him that they wouldn’t have to do this thing long-distance anymore? Was he actually going to get to spend time with his boyfriend on a regular basis from now on? Was Derek no longer holding back because he thought Stiles wasn’t sure that this was really it? Because Stiles had been sure for ages. 

“Asshole,” Stiles was unable to do anything but insult his boyfriend. 

“I was going to ask you to move here as well,” Derek trailed off meaningfully, happy to make fun of Stiles. “But if you’d rather live in the dorms and insult me some more...” 

That was not an actual question, but it still meant far more than Stiles had been expecting. Because this was probably the best present he could have gotten this year. Not just a visit from Derek, but a visit turning into something permanent. The message that Derek had accepted destiny, and had accepted that Stiles had accepted it as well. 

It wasn’t just a spell. It was them. It was their choice. 

“I love you,” Stiles said, helplessly. 

“Is that a yes?” Derek was going to milk this as much as he could. 

Because their relationship hadn’t made Derek any less of an asshole, and it hadn’t made Stiles love him any less. And honestly, he hadn’t expected him to change - he didn’t want that to happen, and he didn’t want the official question in some kind of super sappy moment with flowers and candles and all that. He just wanted this asshole, permanently. 

“Of course it is, you fuck,” Stiles sighed. “I can’t believe you pulled this off without me finding out. How long have you been here? Did you fly out today? Is this my gift?” 

Properly rambling was too much right now - he couldn’t do that because he was still trying to pull himself back from launching himself at Derek. He just wanted to wrap himself around his boyfriend and not let go for the rest of the day - or the week. Fuck classes. 

“It’s part of it,” Derek grinned. 

“Part of it?” Stiles made a face at him. “What did you do?” 

There was more? He was getting all of this, and now there was more? Just getting Derek was enough of a present really (though an actual present still would have been really fucking awesome), but of course Derek had to outdo every perfect boyfriend on every cheesy teen drama by getting him a gift on top of this. Because that asshole was far too good to him. 

“There’s a library upstairs,” Derek grinned. “Enough room for every book you could ever need.” 

It wasn’t time for a marriage proposal yet, but Stiles was really fucking tempted right about now, even though that present was probably partly for Derek as well. Stiles was pretty sure that they both had a serious book problem, and that this library was going to be all filled up before they’d even finished unpacking. But that just meant it was the perfect gift. 

“That spell is the best thing that ever happened to me,” Stiles sighed happily. 

Finally he launched himself at Derek, wrapping himself around his boyfriend. Derek was strong enough to catch him - those muscles were a gift in so many ways - and he had always liked Stiles’ enthusiasm. Or well, he’d openly liked it for at least three years, and not so openly a little while longer than that, while at the same time pretending to huff and puff and blow… 

Speaking of blowing, Stiles had an excellent idea. 

“Now, take me upstairs,” Stiles smirked. “We need to properly christen that library.” 

Derek rolled his eyes, but did as ordered. The Siren song spell had been gone ages ago, but sometimes, if he got the timing just right, Derek was still stupidly enchanted by him. 

Wow, solid pun. That was the best birthday present he could have given himself. 


End file.
